Tricks of Power
by Marie1964
Summary: My response to 96 Hubbles Halloween challenge; Part Three of my Vampire Annals. When an important possession of Newkirk's and Carter's goes missing, a simple retrieval may be harder than it looks.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Missing

AN: In Literature, this story takes place after the ending, but before the epilogue of "A Changing of the Future." In Canon, this story takes place after "Sticky Wicket Newkirk."

A bright day was dawning over Stalag 13. Newkirk had fully recuperated from his battle against the Engels that had occurred one month earlier. Hogan was still getting used to becoming a new father, and he welcomed every chance he got to see Wilhelmina. As for Carter, he was sleeping along with the rest of the men in the barracks.

However, all did not seem right in their little corner of the world. For the past several hours, Newkirk had been twisting and turning in his sleep, troubled by dreams of the battle. He had made himself forget completely about it, and for good reason. He couldn't stand the thought that he had lost himself unto his powers, and from that day to this he vowed that he would never let such a thing happen again. No matter what, he would never again put his friends in harm's way.

Thus, the memories haunted him, and he found that sleep was impossible. As a vampire, rest was never a necessity, since he knew that only the living needed to rest up. However, he preferred to sleep for two very important reasons: (1) Even though the men often performed their missions at night, he couldn't stay up ALL the time without arousing suspicion from the other prisoners in his barracks, and (2) Sleeping was just as comfortable and relaxing to him as it would be to any human.

When Schultz barged into the barracks, announcing that it was time for morning roll call, Newkirk didn't mind in the least that his sleep was interrupted. He was glad to be away from his horrible dreams, and knew that whatever the day brought, it would be like paradise compared to his troubled sleep. However, almost as soon as he woke up, he could tell that something was different about the way he felt, and for a moment he experienced a sensation of pure panic. He wanted to make sure that he wouldn't lose himself again, and took a couple of seconds to breathe deeply, while trying to make sure that the other prisoners and Schultz wouldn't notice how worked up he seemed.

Standing outside in the morning sun, Newkirk felt that it was warmer than usual. A _lot_ warmer. It reminded him of how much the sun had hurt when he had first been changed into a vampire. Naturally, this didn't make the slightest amount of sense to him. The pain was so intense that he had to shield his eyes from the sun, which was fortunate not only for him, but for everybody around him. He found that his eyes were becoming their greenish shade involuntarily.

_Am I sick? What's appening to me?_ he thought to himself. Almost immediately, he remembered a detail of his dream that had vanished from his mind the moment upon waking. Not only were the usual four leaders of the Engels present, but a woman from his past as well. She was a woman who had caused him to betray his friends inadvertently, and had threatened to expose their entire operation. If it hadn't been for Hogan's quick thinking, and Carter's well-played imitation, he knew that all five of them could have ended up in a Gestapo prison, sent before a firing squad; there was no limit to the possibility of things that Hochstetter could have inflicted upon them as a form of punishment.

After roll call, Newkirk and the others went back inside the barracks, and LeBeau quickly began preparing their breakfast and making their coffee. As he poured it for his friends, Newkirk could only smile in reply. However, the strange look upon LeBeau's face caused him to quickly close his mouth.

"What is it, Louie? What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern.

"Your teeth are missing," LeBeau replied quietly, not wanting the other men in the barracks to hear him. He was still surprised at seeing his friend in such a condition. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that his friend had been in a fight with some of the other prisoners, which was against the rules of the camp.

"My teeth are _what_?" he asked again, in case he had heard wrong the first time.

"Your teeth are missing, mon ami. Your upper and lower canines are gone."

Immediately, Newkirk's mind filled with dread, though he tried to hide it from his friends, especially Carter and Newkirk. However, he couldn't fool their telepathic minds. Upon sensing his corporal's anxiety, Hogan could only ask quietly, "How did you lose your teeth Newkirk? Did you get into a fight that we don't know about?"

_But me fangs were 'ere last night. You saw them, when we were all taking our dinner in our private room _Newkirk thought in reply.

"He's right, you know," Carter added, speaking up. However, his sentence was only returned by the stares of his friends, which were very similar to the stares that they had given Newkirk.

"Your canines are missing too," Kinch said, just after taking a sip from his cup.

_Boy, this is bad! They can't be missing, and more importantly, who would want them?_ Carter thought to himself, successfully hiding his thoughts from his friends.

Suddenly, before either Carter or Newkirk could finish their cups of coffee or their flavorless breakfast, both found the sudden urge to excuse themselves and head to the tunnels.

"I wonder what that's about?" LeBeau asked. "I mean, it's only teeth. Surely, with our friends' regenerative powers, they should grow back in time."

However, before either Kinch or Hogan could answer him, the two werewolves picked up the unmistakable sound of the men quietly cursing in the tunnels. They were obviously pacing back and forth, and in between curses they could hear each one trying to comfort the other. They were obviously agitated, but why should they be bothered over the loss of some teeth?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Free Will's Significance

Even though Hogan's hearing wasn't as good as those of the two werewolves on his team, he also had to wonder why Carter and Newkirk had felt it necessary to suddenly descend into the tunnels. It wasn't like them to just get up and leave, especially not without a good reason.

"I'll go see what's wrong," he said, in a partial response to LeBeau's question. "You two wait here." With that, he quickly went in after his men.

Down below in the tunnels, he could see that Carter and Newkirk were worse than they had let on. They had stopped pacing, and were sitting down against the tunnel walls, each one rocking back and forth with their arms wrapped around themselves.

Hogan was taken aback by what he saw; he had never seen his two men to behave in such a manner. They had always shown courage by whatever obstacles they were up against, whether it was an ordinary mission concerning Papa Bear's organization, or even in their battle against the Engels.

"Stay away from us!" they shouted simultaneously. "We're too sick to be around you!" they said, trying to force themselves to retract their fangs, and make their green eyes return to their normal shade.

"Please, sir, we don't want to 'urt you!" Newkirk said, trying to hide the tears in his eyes.

However, Hogan could only shake his head back and forth. "I don't understand. Why would you two be afraid of hurting me? You've never hurt me, but I…" Hogan let his voice trail off, unwilling to dig up any old wounds. Every once in a while he still had nightmares about how he had almost killed his corporal when he had been tricked by the Engels, and he was grateful for their daily mediation that the two of them engaged in. Newkirk had taught him all about it, and Hogan found that it was very helpful in fighting back any residual darkness that might live in his soul. He remembered that Newkirk had told him that it might take months, perhaps even years to master complete self-control. Thus, each day was spent battling his personal demons, whenever he felt his desire for blood beginning to get out of hand.

"It's not like that," Newkirk said, reading Hogan's thoughts. "You stopped yourself from killing me, but…I might not be able to stop meself from killing you." Before Hogan could interrupt with any more questions, he continued his train of thought. "Yes, our fangs will grow back eventually—perhaps in a day or two. But we didn't _lose_ them—they were _stolen_ from us."

Speaking up, Carter took over for Newkirk. "Newkirk told me about the dream that he had last night about the battle last month against them. But this time, somebody was present in his dream who wasn't there."

"Well, who was it?" Hogan asked, while reaching out his hands to both of his men, helping them get up from off the floor. However, even while they were standing, Hogan noticed that they kept their gaze down, and didn't look their commanding officer in the eye.

"Gretel was present," Newkirk said. "I don't know why, but she was there, and she was laughing at me. She seemed very 'appy, but I can't make 'eads or tails of it."

"Well, let's get back to the beginning," Hogan said. "Why would you both be afraid of hurting me?" he asked again. "Is it your Scream of Death again?" Placing a hand on his corporal's shoulder, Hogan continued. "I have complete confidence that you'll be able to control yourself. You have to remember that you were drugged, and that you weren't responsible for your behavior." Turning to Carter, he said, "The same goes for you, Carter. Allerton is long dead, and he won't be able to hurt you any more."

"But you don't understand!" both men shouted at the same time. "Without our fangs, we're a danger not only to ourselves, but to everybody else around us!"

"I should think that you would be less of a danger to people if you can't rip into their necks," Hogan countered, trying to lighten the tension in the tunnels. However, his joke seemed to have no affect on his men, who appeared to be just as despondent as they were before.

"I know I should 'ave told you this earlier, when I was first teaching you about being a vampire, but I didn't want you to worry about it. I never thought it could actually 'appen meself. You see, if our fangs fall into the wrong 'ands, they can be used to control us. We would become slaves to their will, almost as though we were zombies. We would 'ave to do whatever they wanted us to, without any choice in the matter. We could actually kill you, or Kinch or LeBeau!" Newkirk shouted.

At first, Hogan couldn't believe what he was hearing from his man. The thought of somebody controlling not only his body, but his mind as well was too terrifying to comprehend. "But who would want to do such a thing? Further more, who would even be capable of stealing your fangs from you? If you had them last night during dinner, but they're gone this morning that means whoever took them must have snuck into camp in the middle of the night. But wouldn't we have heard them, or at the very least wouldn't you have woken up?"

"Well, I did 'ave a very restless night, but I didn't think much of it. I figured it was just due to me bad dreams."

"So, we need to find the teeth, and get them back before whoever has them can use them against you. How hard can that be?" Hogan asked, trying to remain optimistic for the team.

However, Newkirk and Carter could only exchange quick glances, before turning back to their commander. "Sir, there's something else you need to know," they said simultaneously. "There is one creature in the world that's stronger than a vampire, and possibly stronger than a werewolf as well. Those creatures, much like the members of our team, look like regular humans, but they possess their own supernatural powers. Witches are real."

"What, you mean like the Wicked Witch of the West?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, but nowhere near as ugly," Carter said.

"Though perhaps just as frightening."

This time, however, Hogan was not surprised by what he was hearing. _If vampires and werewolves exist, I suppose it only makes sense that witches do as well. But next thing my men are going to tell me is that there actually _was _a Frankenstein's monster._

"So, witches, huh? All right, I believe that they exist. I suppose I have to, don't I?" Suddenly, Hogan's mind filled with dread. "It's already begun, hasn't it? You're having trouble controlling your features, and I did notice you shading your eyes from the sun during morning roll call. I don't think the other men would make much of it, but I know that it must be hurting your eyes. If a witch really does have your teeth, how will we know who he, or she, is?"

Suddenly, before Carter could stop himself, he lunged towards Hogan's throat, grabbed it and squeezed as hard as he could. "Haven't you guessed by now, Colonel?" he asked in a voice that wasn't his own.

Newkirk and Hogan both recognized that voice, and a chill ran down both of their spines. They knew who was controlling Carter at the moment. Carter squeezed harder, and with the other hand he withdrew his gun from his pocket—the same gun that only minutes ago he had grabbed, in case he needed to commit suicide before hurting any of his friends. He could have never guessed that only minutes later, he would be pointing it at Hogan's heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Secret's Out

Hogan tried pushing Carter off of him with all of his superhuman strength, but it was to no avail. The harder Hogan pushed his sergeant off of him, the tighter he gripped his commanding officer's neck.

"Carter, stop it!" Newkirk yelled at his friend, trying to talk some sense into him. Just as quickly as he had acted a couple of seconds earlier, Newkirk rushed at his friend, hoping to pull him off of Hogan. However, with one push Carter sent him flying backwards across the room, until he landed with an "Oomph!" against the other side of the tunnels on the floor.

Never letting his gaze wander from the man in front of him, Carter spoke up again. "I should make you pay for what you've done to me!" he shouted, again in a voice that wasn't his own. "You made me look like a fool in front of Hochstetter! You made me endure endless rounds of intensive questioning, not to mention the torture that they did to me! I was lucky to get out of there alive." Letting his eyes become their greenish shade again and his fangs emerge, Carter could only smile a most devious expression. Hogan inwardly gasped; it was an expression that he had only seen his sergeant display once before, when he and Newkirk were tied up in the barn before the battle.

Getting back to his feet, Newkirk tried yet again to reason with his friend. "Carter…Andrew…you can't let 'er control you like this! You've got to fight it!"

"Oh, I'm not going to fight _anything_," the non-Carter spoke. "I'm going to do to Hogan what I should have done all those months ago!" Cocking the gun, Carter continued to point it with an extremely steady hand at his commander.

Suddenly, just as the entire situation had started, Hogan noticed that Carter's hand was beginning to shake. It switched every single second, from being steady, to trying to lower the gun, to raising it again.

_Carter, you've got to fight this! I know you can _Hogan thought to his friend, unable to speak at the moment. With every passing second Hogan found that he was becoming closer to passing out, and he had to fight with every ounce of strength that he possessed to keep conscience. _Please, I know you have it in you to fight what she's doing to you!_

Both Hogan and Newkirk could see how much inner turmoil their friend was in at the moment. It was one thing to be tricked by a seen and known foe, but quite another to be tricked by one that they thought they were done dealing with a long time ago. Not only that, but they were completely surprised at the fact that _she _was a witch, of all the people in the world to be one.

"Stop it!" Carter suddenly shouted in his own voice, putting the hand that wasn't holding the gun up to his head. He tried to retract his fangs and make his eyes return to his normal color, which he was able to do after several inwardly agonizing seconds. "Make it stop! Get out of my head!"

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," the non-Carter spoke up again, with the gun still pointed at Hogan's heart.

"I'm not going to listen to you; I won't let you control me!" Carter shouted again. "I won't allow you to hurt my friends!" Suddenly, memories came flooding back to him of how he had given into his sire, and how he drunk Newkirk's blood to the point of almost killing him. Ever since that day, he had vowed to never let himself be tricked again to the point of hurting his friends.

Fighting with every bit of self-control that he possessed, Carter forced and fought with himself to lower the gun, until he was able to drop it on the floor. Walking very slowly, as though each step caused him more pain than Hogan, though not Newkirk, could possibly imagine, Carter walked to the room where the team kept their supply of sleeping pills. Before the witch could regain control of his body and mind, Carter took enough that would ordinarily overdose a regular man, but was just the right quantity to knock him out.

After Carter had left, Hogan and Newkirk could only exchange glances with each other. "He's in so much pain, Gov'nor. It's almost unbearable," the corporal could only whisper.

"I know," Hogan replied. "Ever since I became a full-fledged vampire, I've always been able to read minds and think what you've thought. But this is the first time that I've been able to feel what you feel as well. It feels like his pain is my own, and that I just gave into my darkness again," he said, a shudder running down his spine as he tried to fight against his own memories. "We have to find those teeth and fast, before something else happens like this again. I hate knowing that the only way Carter could feel like he could keep control over himself was if he made himself be unconscious."

Suddenly, Newkirk made a fist and punched it into his open palm. "Bloody 'ell! I should 'ave known what she was, and killed her meself. We wouldn't be in this sticky wicket if I hadn't been so taken in by 'er."

"Newkirk, that's in the past, and we're in the present. Besides, don't make me take your weekend pass away from you again," Hogan threatened, but only half-jokingly. "Besides, if witches really are more powerful than vampires, maybe you couldn't have picked up on it. But we need to know who we're dealing with. What other powers does a witch possess?"

"Well, for starters, the legends about witches 'aving familiars is true. These can be cats, dogs, almost any animal that can be controlled."

"What about a wolf?" Hogan asked with fear. "Are Kinch, LeBeau, Tiger, and Klink in any danger from her while they're in their wolf form?"

"Witches can control wolves, but only the natural, non-supernatural kind. Fortunately for us, witches 'ave no powers over werewolves," Newkirk replied, much to Hogan's visible relief. "But for the moment, I wouldn't go by the German Shepherds if I were you."

"And why ever not?" LeBeau asked as he was descending down the ladder, with Kinch following quickly behind him. "Are they sick or something?"

"Not in any contagious sort of way, so you and Kinch 'ave nothing to worry about. Besides, if they were, Oscar would be the first one to know about it."

"Then what's wrong with them?" Kinch asked.

Sighing, Newkirk could only ask them, "Are you familiar with what a witch is?"

"Oui, of course. Me and Kinch have both seen _The Wizard of Oz_ after all," LeBeau replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking at his friend as though he thought that the two of them were both children.

"Witches aren't like that at all," Newkirk replied. Since he knew that his friends must have heard the commotion that had just passed, he quickly filled them in on the details, leaving nothing out. Even though he didn't like admitting that he could lose control over himself to her at any moment, he knew it was best to follow the policy that Hogan had recently implemented: No More Secrets.

At first, Kinch and LeBeau could only gasp upon hearing the news that Newkirk relayed to them. "Mon Dieu, who is it? Who could have such power over you and Andrew?"

"When Carter was fighting with us, he was speaking in a voice that we've heard once before, so fortunately we know who the witch is," Hogan said.

"Well, who is it then?" Kinch asked.

"It's Gretel," Hogan and Newkirk replied at the same time.

"What, you mean that Gestapo informant that Newkirk once showed everything to? I thought we were done with her," Kinch said, with extreme worry shining in his eyes. "If she's back, she could expose our entire operation. Even if Hochstetter didn't believe her, it doesn't mean that somebody else won't."

"Except there's still one thing that I don't understand," Hogan replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "If she really does have that much power over Newkirk and Carter, why couldn't she expose our operation? I would think that, unfortunately, it would be very easy for her."

"That, my dear Colonel, is for me to know and you _not _to," Newkirk suddenly spoke up, but speaking in Gretel's voice.

_Please, not again_ Hogan could only think to himself, right before Newkirk took his jacket off while allowing his wings to emerge from behind his back.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: More Tricks

Having just heard Newkirk's description of the mini-battle between Hogan and Carter, Kinch and LeBeau could only expect the worse when they realized that Gretel had taken control of the corporal's mind and body. They knew that it was one thing for Carter to be tricked, but since Newkirk possessed his Scream of Death, he was at least twice as dangerous. They exchanged quick glances between the other, before positioning themselves in front of Hogan. They both took off their jackets, and were ready to disrobe at a moment's notice, in case they needed to use Golden and Loup in order to stop Newkirk before it was too late.

However, Newkirk could only smile with a twisted expression showing on his face. "I have other plans for Newkirk," he spoke up in Gretel's voice. "He helped to expose me for a fool, so I think I'll repay the favor."

Hogan suddenly gasped, knowing what Gretel's plans for his corporal were. Suddenly and superhumanly quickly, Newkirk made his way to the ladder, and was beginning to climb up it into the barracks. _When the other men see him in his condition, they might not recognize that it's Newkirk. He'll be shot dead!_ Hogan thought to Kinch and LeBeau, complete dread filling his mind.

Hogan rushed at Newkirk, grabbing him by his pants' leg just before he got to the top of the ladder. With every bit of strength that he possessed, Hogan yanked on his leg and managed to throw him down the tunnel, where once again he landed on the floor.

"It doesn't matter what you do to him. Sooner or later, if I can't have your men kill you outright, I'll make sure that the others in your barracks know what you are and have them do the job for me!" the non-Newkirk shouted at Hogan, his fangs and purple eyes completely visible.

By this time, Kinch and LeBeau decided that they couldn't afford to take any chances with Newkirk in his present condition. They had quickly disrobed, and had shifted into Golden and Loup. They both lunged at Newkirk, afraid that he was going to try to pull the same stupid stunt, or try to attack Hogan.

The two wolves pinned him down, fangs meeting fangs. Newkirk tried to push them off of him, but working as a team, they were able to keep him down on the floor. Meanwhile, Hogan rushed into the room where the sleeping pills were stored, and grabbed a handful of them. He stopped only momentarily, and was relieved to see that Carter was still unconscious. _Gretel will pay for what she's doing to my men!_ he thought to himself, as he rushed out of the room and over to Newkirk.

By this time, Newkirk had succeeded in throwing Loup off of him, but was still struggling to free himself from Golden's hold on him. Hogan came nearer, and tried to creep up behind his corporal, which he was able to succeed in doing. With one hand, Hogan forced Newkirk's mouth open, and before he could use his fangs to draw blood, quickly forced the pills down his mouth and made him swallow them. Fortunately, the sleeping pills seemed to work almost instantly, and Newkirk was out in a matter of moments.

Seeing that another small battle was over, Golden and Loup shifted back into Kinch and LeBeau, and quickly began changing up again. They went to stand next to Hogan, who was still keeping watch over Newkirk. Bit by bit, his white skin returned to its normal color, and his wings were beginning to retract themselves.

Seeing that his corporal's shirt was in tatters, since he hadn't removed it before exposing his wings, Hogan turned to LeBeau and asked him "Go upstairs and see if Newkirk has another shirt."

"Right away, mon Colonel," LeBeau replied, quickly going up into the barracks while searching through Newkirk's foot locker and finding what his friend needed. Fortunately for him, all of the other men in the barracks had gone outside to enjoy the warm autumn day, so nobody was around to question LeBeau's actions.

Descending back into the tunnels, LeBeau handed Hogan Newkirk's second shirt. Getting down on his knees, Hogan removed the tattered shirt from his friend, and dressed him in his new shirt. _It's always going to be my job to take care of them, both as their commanding officer and their friend, no matter how many times they're tricked or hurt _Hogan thought sadly to himself. Picking Newkirk up with Kinch's help, he carried him into the room that was filled with cots which were used for downed fliers. Going into the other room, both men repeated the same act with Carter, and they laid him down next to his friend.

"Well, it seems like it's just the three of us now," Hogan sadly said absentmindedly to his two other men, shaking his head back and forth. All three of them were in the room where Carter and Newkirk were. "But what's worse than seeing them in this condition is knowing that this time, very little sense can be talked into them. How am I going to handle things if I can't trust them to control themselves?"

"Sir, pardon me if this isn't my place, but the answer is very simple. You'll continue to trust them the same way that we trusted you. You told us how you were tricked by the Engels, but we knew that you had it in you to control yourself. As soon as we find their teeth, things should return to normal around here," Kinch replied.

"Kinch is right, mon Colonel," LeBeau said while agreeing with his friend.

"Yes, but this is different. I specifically ordered you 'to show me your loyalty by killing me if anything goes wrong.' I could _never _bring myself to kill any of my men, no matter what condition they're in. I made a promise that I would never allow myself to hurt my friends again, and I _meant_ it," Hogan answered. "Besides, our team would fall apart without them. Sure, there may be other men in the barracks willing to take their place on this team, but it just wouldn't be the same. As vampires and werewolves, we've done things that no other Underground unit could do. We've probably rescued more downed fliers, and blew up more bridges, supply depots and trains in the last month than in any other month. I would hate to have to go back to working as regular humans again when we work so much better as our supernatural selves."

"I understand," Kinch and LeBeau replied at the same time.

"I believe I can speak for LeBeau when I say that we agree with you. By using our powers of scent and hearing to avoid running into any Kraut patrols, and using our speed to carry out our missions quicker than humanly possible, it allows us to do a greater amount of good for the Allied cause. There aren't any other vampires in camp," Kinch said.

"I just wish we knew where to find Gretel," LeBeau replied sadly. "Surely, if we can find her, we can find the teeth as well."

"I know what you mean," Hogan replied. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. "Newkirk was once able to find Magerlein by searching for his brain patterns. Let me see if I remember Gretel's, and can find her that way."

"If you find out where she lives, we would then be able to track her for you," Kinch replied.

"Exactly. But first, I can't begin performing such a complicated task on an empty stomach," Hogan answered back. "If you'll excuse me for a second…" With that, Hogan took his leave of his two men, and went into the private room where he kept their private safe stored with their necessary blood. Opening the safe, Hogan took out a blood bag and stared at it for a couple of seconds. _Sometimes I wish that there wasn't such a thing as vampires, werewolves, and now witches. I still believe in what I said to my two men—that we can do more good with our enhanced abilities than we can as regular humans. But this war was hard enough before, without throwing elements of the supernatural into it. Was it really only a couple of months ago that I thought Newkirk and Carter were just regular humans?_ Hogan thought dreamily to himself._ But what's done is done, and as I keep telling my men, the past is the past. As Newkirk once told me, 'The only path I can follow is forward.'_ Having finished his self-contemplation, Hogan easily ripped open the blood bag and drank the substance in a couple of swallows. He moaned with delight as the euphoric feeling of the blood was beginning to fill his body, and he allowed himself to bask in the sensation for a couple of minutes. After such a hectic and unhappy morning, he was especially grateful for the satisfaction and desire fulfillment that the blood always provided him.

However, almost as soon as the sensation was beginning to wear off, Hogan noticed that something didn't feel quite right. At first, it was only a slight stomach upset, but he noticed that he was quickly finding himself becoming feverous as well. _What's wrong with this blood? Or did Gretel steal my fangs too and I didn't even notice it?_ he asked himself. Reaching his hand towards his mouth, Hogan was relieved that all of his teeth were present. Still, with each passing second, Hogan found himself growing weaker and weaker. He found that he had to sit down, and that he seemed to be becoming sicker as time wore on.

Suddenly, from the other room where Carter and Newkirk were, Kinch and LeBeau were startled to see that Newkirk was twitching and turning, even though he still had his eyes closed. He fought against the effects of the sleeping pills, and managed to open his eyes.

"You've got… to stop…'im," Newkirk weakly whispered to his friends, fear shining in his eyes.

"Stop him from who? You?" Kinch asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Unless you're in your right mind, you're staying put right where you are—never mind how the sleeping pills wore off so quickly."

"Oui, maybe our Colonel didn't give you enough," LeBeau said, also crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Do you need some more?" he asked, though Newkirk could tell that LeBeau's tone of voice was more worried about his friend than it was angry or suspicious.

"I am…in me right…mind," Newkirk replied in a hoarse voice, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. "But the Colonel…'e's been poisoned!"

Kinch and LeBeau quickly exchanged worried glances before turning back to their friend. "What do you mean, poisoned?"

"When Gretel was in…me mind, I caught a glimpse…of 'er plan for 'im….Our blood 'as been tainted with…vervain!" [1]

At first, LeBeau could only stare at his friend quizzically, but Kinch understood immediately the dangers that vervain could cause to his colonel. "How do we cure him?" Kinch asked.

"'E needs a fresh supply…of blood. You two need to go to the 'ospital…and steal some more blood bags."

"Do you think it's a wise idea to leave him alone with the both of you?" Kinch asked. Turning to LeBeau, he told him, "Louis, you better put on a German uniform and get over to the hospital. I know we've never had to find the blood room before, but surely your nose can pick it up. I'll stay here and watch over Hogan, in case he gets worse or Gretel tries to take control of Carter and Newkirk again. I also hate to admit it, but we might need to tell Klink what's going on as well. With everything that has happened this morning, his blood supply could be poisoned as well."

"Oui, d'accord," LeBeau replied. With that, he quickly hurried over to the room where they kept their uniforms, and began dressing in that of a Gestapo captain. He knew that he didn't have time to be bothered with questions, so he figured that if anybody saw him in the hospital, they wouldn't dare to stop a Gestapo agent. With that, he quickly hurried out of the tunnels, only hoping that he could come back in time before something worse could happen to his commanding officer.

[1] Verbena [or vervain] is a natural plant [purple flower] that actually exists. In the CW show _The Vampire Diaries_, the writers made this plant to be rare. In the show's mythology, vervain doesn't kill a vampire, but can poison him, or her, and can make the vampire very weak.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: The Flock

Morning had given way to afternoon over what was turning out to be a very discomforting day. As LeBeau made his way to the hospital, he hurried as quickly as his two feet could take him, running as fast as humanly possible. He suddenly found himself wishing that he was traveling as Loup, since he knew that he would be able to cover the distance between camp and the hospital in only half the time. Still, he inwardly sighed to himself as he knew that this was an impossibility. Wolves were extinct in Germany, and the last thing he needed at the moment was running into trigger-happy, target-searching German guards.

As he neared the hospital, another thought suddenly assaulted him, and he found this one to be much more horrifying. In his rush to help his commanding officer, he hadn't fully realized what he would have to do, and the psychological effects that it would have on him. He felt his face becoming flushed as he realized that he would have to face one of his greatest fears: looking at, in addition to obtaining, blood without fainting. _It's a good thing that I am a shape shifter, and not a vampire_ he thought to himself. _Whoever heard of a vampire who faints at the sight of blood?_ Sometimes, just the very thought of what he knew his three friends had to partake of in order to survive was enough to make him feel a little ill. Still, he knew that they probably wouldn't take too kindly to the idea of eating raw rabbit, which he had done on two occasions back home in France. _To each their own_ he inwardly chuckled, trying to make light of the situation so that he wouldn't have to face his fears.

However, he needn't had bothered. Halfway between camp and the hospital, he noticed that there was an unusually large concentration of birds up ahead in some of the trees. There were crows, jays, ravens and magpies, in addition to sparrows, chickadees and wrens. [1] He marveled at the sight of them, but stopped only momentarily before hurrying on his way. In his entire life, he had never seen so many birds, or such a wide variety of species, gathered together in one place.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, he seemed to hear the almost imperceptible sound of somebody whistling a tune. It was not one that he had ever heard before, which made him grow perplexed. Crouching down behind some bushes, he scanned the area for the sight of whoever, or whatever, was whistling.

However, he might well have been searching in the empty vacuum of space for all the good that it caused. Even though he looked all around him, both on the floor and in the trees, all he could see were the birds. They all had their beaks closed, so LeBeau knew that they couldn't be the ones who were making that noise. It seemed to subside for a couple of seconds, and at first the corporal thought that he might have been imagining the entire thing. Getting up from his hiding place, he was about to continue his journey when just as quickly as the noise had stopped, it started up again.

Once again, LeBeau crouched down, and continued to scan the area. However, as before, all he could see were the various birds that were perched high up in the trees. He inwardly gasped as he noticed that there were more birds than before, if that was even possible. He noticed them all staring at him intently, as though there was nothing else in the forest—no trees, no bushes, no flowers or grass—except for themselves and him.

Suddenly, one bird swooped down towards LeBeau, and he raised his hands to cover his head. Unfortunately, he was a single moment too slow, and the bird pecked at his head, drawing first blood. At first, he could only crouch there in shock. He had never known a bird to purposefully attack a person, unless it was provoked, and he had never heard about a bird drawing blood.

Tentatively and ever so carefully, LeBeau raised his hand to his injury, and he felt how warm and wet the blood appeared to be. Bringing his hand down to him, he had to fight with every bit of strength that he possessed in order to keep himself from blacking out.

What had started as a single bird acting crazy soon turned into a full assault on the corporal. The birds swooped and dived at him, and he didn't need to think twice about what he was doing. Even though they tried to draw more blood from him, he took off, running towards the hospital as though his very life depended on it. If anybody had seen this act, they would have been just as surprised as LeBeau was by the birds' erratic behavior.

Finally, just when he felt like he couldn't handle another dive directed at him, LeBeau had reached the front steps of the hospital and bounded inside. He stopped to catch his breath, and could only hope that indeed he had suffered only the first injury. Thankfully, nobody was around to see him, and by now the blood had dried up into a hard wound.

_Those birds are crazy!_ he thought to himself. _I wonder if Gretel is behind this? Newkirk did tell us about a witch's familiar, and that they could control almost any animal._ Suddenly, he found that his fear had turned into anger over what had just happened. _Will she stop at nothing to get what she wants? If it's a fight she wants, as soon as we find her, it's a fight she's going to get!_

Still, LeBeau found that he had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could continue his mission. By now, he could scent that there were two doctors walking down one of the hallways, and he could also overhear their conversation.

"You know, we really have to do something about our thief," one of the doctors said to his colleague.

"I know. That's the fifth time this month that our inventory of blood has been off. The quantity that we leave off with in the evening doesn't seem to be the same as what we find in the morning," the other doctor replied.

"Do you think it's black market? With this war on, I imagine that blood could provide a pretty penny for the supplier."

"That could be. Of course, it could be vampires." With that, both doctors laughed at their own joke.

As the doctors approached LeBeau, both of them kept their heads down and hurried on, afraid of being stopped by a Gestapo agent. Thus, they didn't notice LeBeau's head injury, and didn't stop to ask him about it. Their conversation was only one clue that they had just come from the room where the hospital stored its blood. As soon as the doctors had passed out of sight, LeBeau raised his nose in the air and sniffed, trying to find what he was looking for and confirm his suspicions. He knew that the blood room wasn't far by the substance's overpowering scent, and he had to keep himself from gagging on it.

Walking quickly down the hallway to the room, LeBeau took in a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for the sight that he knew lay in front of him. However, he was not prepared for another sight before that.

In front of the blood room, a doctor was stationed, and he seemed to be keeping guard. As LeBeau approached, the doctor shook his head in a negative manner.

"I'm sorry sir, but nobody can enter this room who isn't a doctor or a nurse," the doctor stammered out, trying to keep his orders in the face of a Gestapo agent.

Using his best German accent, LeBeau tried to appear as menacing as possible, which seemed to have an effect on the doctor. "You dare to order around a Gestapo captain?" he barked in fluent German. "Should I tell General von Himmelburger that I couldn't give him the blood he needs for his wound? Or perhaps, when he is feeling better, he'll be kind enough to have you court-martialed, shot, _and _sent to the Russian Front!"

"General von Himmelburger?" the doctor asked with a complete stammer. One of his patients had once been one of the men who witnessed Hogan destroying the Hauserhof Hotel lobby, and needless to say it had made quite an impression on him. In order to pass the time while he was recuperating, the solider had told his doctor about what he had witnessed that day. He had described it in such vivid detail as to make the doctor feel that he had witnessed the act personally. Thus, the last thing he needed was to bring the general's wrath down upon him. He didn't want to question why a doctor wasn't getting the blood for his patient; all he wanted was to live to see another day.

Moving aside, the doctor allowed LeBeau to enter into the room. Thankfully, LeBeau's speech outside the room had raised his confidence enough to the point of being able to see the blood without feeling as though he was going to faint on the spot. Still, he didn't intend to be in there any longer than necessary. Grabbing seven bags, or as many as he could carry inside his jacket, in his jacket pockets and in his hands, LeBeau quickly left the room before he could think twice about what he was doing.

"Danke. You have been most helpful. But if I ever catch you not allowing one of General von Himmelburger's men into this room again…!" LeBeau raised his voice, which caused the doctor to cower in terror.

_I'll have to let Newkirk, Carter and Hogan know about this situation_ LeBeau thought to himself. _They might need to find another hospital until enough time has passed so that the doctors think the stealing has stopped_ LeBeau thought to himself as he walked down the hallway and to the hospital's main door.

Stepping outside, LeBeau was relieved to see that there weren't any birds around. Running as fast as he could, his only wish was that he was in time to save his commanding officer from the effects of the vervain.

As he continued his fast-paced journey, he knew that the shortest route was the same one that he had taken only minutes ago, and so he could only hope that there wouldn't be a repeat of the attack that was inflicted upon him. Unfortunately, this was not to be the case.

At almost the exact spot in the forest as where the attacks had started, LeBeau once again heard the mysterious tune being whistled. This time, he didn't bother to crouch down, since he suspected that even if he looked for somebody, nobody was to be found. Once again, the birds had returned to their spot in the trees, and were looking at him with the same twisted expression of intent as they had shown earlier.

_Not again_ LeBeau thought as the birds swooped and dived at him, and this time they were able to get in a couple more pecks to his head. Running as fast he could, LeBeau raised his arms, trying to shield himself from their blows while at the same time hoping that they wouldn't peck at the blood bags in his hands. Fortunately, they didn't seem to be interested in them; unfortunately, they seemed to be very interested in _him_.

Just as before, LeBeau felt that he couldn't have gotten to the tree stump one moment later. Momentarily putting the two blood bags on the floor, LeBeau opened the hidden entrance before picking up the bags and descending below into the tunnels.

He was greeted by Kinch, who appeared startled by his friend's condition. "What happened to you? Did you run into a Kraut patrol?" he asked with complete worry.

"Non, it was the craziest thing. All of these birds started attacking me for no apparent reason!"

"_Birds?"_ Kinch asked, in case he had heard wrong the first time.

"Oui, birds. After what Newkirk told us about familiars, I'm thinking that this might be Gretel's work."

"We need to get you bandaged up," Kinch said, making his way to the ladder so that he could head to the infirmary.

"There is no time for that! We need to make sure that Colonel Hogan will get better," LeBeau replied. He didn't want to ask how his commander was doing, for two important reasons (1) In case his condition had deteriorated, and (2) He didn't wish to waste time with any more questions.

Heading into the private blood room, LeBeau gasped as he could see that Hogan was barely conscience, and seemed to be slumped against the walls of the tunnel. Getting down on his knees, LeBeau tried handing the bags to Hogan. However, he was too weak at the moment to lift his arms, much to his corporal's dismay.

_You'll be better soon, mon Colonel_ LeBeau thought worriedly to himself. Putting aside his own feelings about blood at the moment, he tried ripping the bag open. He was successful on his second attempt, and he held the bag up to Hogan's mouth, which he was able to open on his own. Very carefully, LeBeau poured the substance down his colonel's throat, and was relieved to see that the blood seemed to have an almost-instant healing factor to it.

After LeBeau had fed him the first bag, Hogan found that his strength was coming back to him. He was able to open the second bag on his own, and was able to drink it without any assistance from his corporal.

"Thanks LeBeau. You saved my life," Hogan said, getting up. "I don't know what Gretel did to me, but it must have been some pretty powerful magic."

"Newkirk told us that she poisoned your supply with something called vervain. You'll probably have to get rid of your entire old supply, but I was able to get five more bags for you."

"Well, I'm glad at least _somebody _seems to have an idea of what's going on around here. Newkirk…" However, Hogan's voice trailed off upon saying his corporal's name. "Is Newkirk conscience? Never mind that—is he in his right mind?"

"For now," Newkirk replied, suddenly standing in the entranceway of their private room. He had expected to be greeted with smiles at this bit of temporary good news, but all that he received were worried glances from both LeBeau and Hogan. "I can't blame you for being upset with me at the moment, but I didn't mean to 'urt you Gov'nor. I'll understand it if you can't trust me at the moment. Blimey, I don't even trust _meself_ at the moment!" Newkirk sadly replied.

However, Newkirk's sad expression changed to one of worry when he saw LeBeau's head injuries. "What 'appened to you?" he asked, dread filling his voice.

"Some birds attacked me. They were acting very crazy!"

"_Birds?" _Hogan and Newkirk asked at the same time.

"Bloody 'ell! I bet they were under Gretel's control."

"Well, this day keeps getting better and better," Hogan replied, looking at LeBeau. Turning from him to Newkirk, he could only stare at his friend with a mixture of sadness and worry. However, when he noticed his corporal staring back at him in an annoyed manner, Hogan had to avert his gaze.

"Colonel, you know that I spent some time in the States after the American War for Independence. While I was there, back in me…darker past, I met somebody who might be able to 'elp us. If you'd like, I could try to contact 'im for you."

[1] List of birds native to Germany courtesy of Wikipedia

AN: This chapter was inspired in part by Alfred Hitchcock's _The Birds_. The whistling noise that LeBeau heard was the movie's theme song.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Transformation

Sensing that whatever information Newkirk had for their commanding officer was a private conversation for the time being, LeBeau took his leave of them and headed through the tunnels and the barracks. By now, the blood had completely dried, so before he left to head over to the infirmary, he went to their sink to run some water over his head. _I'm just glad that mon Colonel seems to be doing better, and that Newkirk is in his right mind for now_ he thought to himself.

Once inside, LeBeau was relieved that Wilson was present, and that he wasn't in his barracks. Upon seeing one of Hogan's men and his head wound, Joseph knew that it must be related to a mission. The only thing that puzzled him was why the corporal had shown up several hours after roll call, instead of immediately afterwards. _I guess it must have been a daytime mission_ he thought to himself.

"Are the rest of the men all right?" Wilson asked, as he walked around the infirmary gathering the necessary bandages and other medical supplies.

LeBeau could sense that Wilson was acting his typical mother hen self, so he quickly replied, "The rest of the men are safe, Wilson. I guess I was just a little clumsy, and tripped and cut myself."

However, Wilson could only respond with an expression that proved words weren't necessary in this case. _Really? I would expect something like that to happen to Carter perhaps, but not to you._

"Do I want to know?" he asked. Shaking his head back and forth, the sergeant answered his own question. "No, I probably don't. Just try to be more careful next time LeBeau. We don't need the Krauts asking questions if they saw your head wound—especially Schultz or Klink."

"We could just tell them that it was a cooking accident. Besides, Schultz knows nothing and he sees nothing. As for Klink…" LeBeau trailed off, keeping his thoughts to himself. _Klink would be concerned, oui. But I suspect that Nimrod would know the real truth._

While they had been engaging in their conversation, Wilson had been working to clean LeBeau's wounds. "All set, corporal—but I mean it. No more cooking accidents," he replied, letting a sly smile slip out.

"Oui, no more cooking accidents," LeBeau agreed, before heading back to his barracks.

HHH

At the same time that Wilson had been working on LeBeau, Hogan couldn't help but let a small smile appear on his face. _I sure hope that whoever Newkirk knows will be able to help us! At the moment, we may need all the help that we can get!_

"Well, who is it?" Hogan asked, waiting to find out who this mysterious man was that his corporal was acquainted with.

"First off, 'e isn't a regular 'uman, but a vampire like us. 'E's known by two names, depending on 'ow 'e's feeling at the moment," Newkirk tried to explain.

However, Hogan could only respond at first with a quizzical glance. "What do you mean, 'how he's feeling at the moment'?"

Sighing, Newkirk could only cross his arms in front of his chest. "Sir, I didn't want to worry you when you were first changed, but when you opened up to me and Carter a month and a half ago in the 'ospital, I wasn't exactly 'onest with you. I told you that all vampires still 'ave their souls, but that isn't always the case. Unfortunately, some poor blokes who become vampires 'ave their souls stolen from then when they're first changed. That's what 'appened with this mate of mine."

At first, Hogan could only look at his corporal with an expression of dread. "You mean, Faust could have stolen my soul from me that day back in his cell? If that was the case…" However, he couldn't allow himself to finish his thoughts, knowing that they were more horrifying than what he wanted to believe, or comprehend.

"If that was the case, you probably would 'ave killed more people than just Hochstetter and those two Underground agents. Worst of all, you wouldn't 'ave felt any regret or remorse over taking those innocent lives, but would 'ave enjoyed it more than you did."

"No…I would never…you know I could never allow myself to be like that!" Hogan shouted, suddenly pacing back and forth in front of his friend. Newkirk could only sigh to himself, knowing that Hogan was being bombarded with memories of how he had behaved once. Since he and his commanding officer shared a strong psychic link, Newkirk couldn't help but share Hogan's dreams and nightmares as well. Every time Hogan awoke in a cold sweat from how he had been tricked by the Engels, Newkirk would often awaken as well. He knew that even if his Colonel had very little darkness left in his soul, the pain that he would experience from the memories was quite another matter. Sometimes, Carter would awaken in a cold sweat as well, since as a younger vampire his psychic link with Hogan wasn't as strong as that of his friend's.

Stopping his pacing, Hogan could only turn and face his corporal. "But if your friend doesn't have a soul, how do we know we can trust him? If he's a bloodthirsty vampire, he could be a liability to this entire team," he tried to reply calmly.

"Fortunately, that won't be a problem with 'im. You see, one day 'e killed the daughter of some Romanian gypsies, and naturally they weren't very 'appy about that. As punishment for 'is crime, they returned 'is soul to 'im. Ever since, 'e's usually very broody and depressed, but I believe that if we can give 'im a reason to act otherwise, 'e could be very 'elpful in defeating Gretel. 'E's always told me 'ow much 'e wants to repent for 'is past sins, and this could be a good opportunity for 'im."

Newkirk could see that Hogan was pondering what he had just heard, running the somewhat-cryptic information over in his head. After thirty seconds of silence, he seemed to nod his approval, but the corporal noticed that the nod was mostly directed at himself than at him.

"Ok, who is this mystery vampire?" Hogan finally asked.

"'Is name, when 'e's in a good mood, is An—"

However, both men were cut off by Kinch suddenly running into their private blood room with a complete expression of worry clearly visible on his face.

"Sir, Newkirk, you better come and see this. It's Carter, and he's…"

However, Kinch didn't need to finish. As soon as they heard that something must be wrong with their friend, Newkirk and Hogan could only quickly exchange worried glances. They immediately rushed out of their private blood room, and over into the room where Kinch had been keeping watch on Carter.

The sight that awaited them completely stunned them. By now, Hogan and all of his men were used to the idea that Newkirk had white skin and wings as part of his true vampiric appearance. Once or twice during the past month, he had even used them as part of their missions to help Carter plant bombs in dangerous, hard-to-reach places. Just as LeBeau had earlier said, it had taken some time for them to get used to seeing their friend in his condition. However, with them being able to perform more complicated missions, they grew to completely accept them and realized how much of an asset they could be to Hogan's team.

Inside the room, Carter was sitting against the wall, looking at his hands as though he was seeing them for the very first time. Much to his and his friends' surprise, they were completely white, with all of the veins showing. At the same time, Newkirk could only gasp, seeing that his friend had grown his own pair of white, seven-foot wings as well.

"Andrew, what's appening to you? You're too young to undergo this transformation!" Newkirk shouted, sitting down next to his friend. He could tell that Carter was just as baffled as he was by this change of events. It had taken place relatively quickly, since he noticed that his friend hadn't had time to remove his shirt before his wings had exposed themselves, ripping holes in his clothing. Looking into his friend's eyes, he could see that they had changed color from green to purple.

"It must be some more of Gretel's magic. Peter, I'm not ready for my own set of wings yet! I mean, sure, they look great on you, but I don't _want _them yet! I want things to still be slow and steady in my evolution as a vampire" Carter could only respond, wrapping his arms around himself.

"I know, I know," Newkirk could only respond, trying to keep calm for the both of them. "No vampire as young as you should have wings yet. After all, it was only a couple of years ago that you killed your last human."

"Boy, thanks," Carter replied, giving his friend a playful punch in the arm. "How do they look?" he asked, but he didn't bother waiting for a reply. Standing up, he tried to concentrate on making them move, but found that it was harder than his friend made it look.

"Andrew, you're trying too hard," Newkirk replied, seeing how scrunched up his friend's face was. "Just keep it simple."

"That's easier said than done."

"Newkirk's right, you know," Hogan said, suddenly speaking up. "When I read Klink's mind to learn that he wasn't lying about being Nimrod, it was hard for me at first because I was concentrating on it too much. I just let his thoughts come to me, and that seemed to work a lot better."

"Ok, I'll try," Carter replied, closing his eyes. Without hardly any concentration, he could feel his wings rustling behind him, and he knew that Hogan and Newkirk must be watching him getting used to them. Opening his eyes, he suddenly found that he was looking down at his friends, instead of directly across at them.

"The boy's a natural," Newkirk replied, seeing his friend had successfully become airborne.

Carter remained in the air for a couple of minutes, before allowing himself to land back on the tunnel's floor. "I've never felt so happy or free in my entire life," he admitted to them. However, his joy seemed to be short-lived. At first, he had tried to ignore the symptom, since he figured he was just hungry since he hadn't partaken of his breakfast yet that morning. But as time wore on, he noticed that the pain in his stomach was different from any pain caused by his unfulfilled desire for blood.

Suddenly, he noticed how warm and tingling he felt. Clutching his stomach, Carter could only lean forward and try to suppress his screams of pain.

At first, Hogan and Newkirk could only look at their friend, expressions of worry and concern visible on their faces. They knew what was happening to Carter, and they didn't like it in the least.

Unfortunately, Carter also realized what was happening to him. "Newkirk, Colonel, you need to get out of here!" he shouted, forcing himself to stand up strength. However, after a couple of seconds of seemingly relief, he bent forward, clutching his stomach again while screaming.

"Carter, you're not drugged. You need to fight this part of your transformation," Newkirk replied, trying to keep his friend on his feet.

"I—I can't! I can feel the pressure building up inside me, and I don't know how much longer I can control it! _Please_, you all need to get out of here!" he shouted, trying to look his friend in the face. Newkirk could only gasp, seeing that as had once happened to him, there were no whites showing in Carter's eyes, and that his entire upper teeth had turned into fangs.

Turning from his friend to his commander, Newkirk could only shake his head sadly. "Unfortunately, this 'appens to all vampires during the first day of their transformation. Thankfully Carter won't be killed, but we might be if we 'ang around 'ere any longer. We need to leave!"

"I think I'll be all right, but the both of you and Kinch need to leave! It's coming out, and it's coming _now_!" With that, Carter tried to cover his mouth to prevent his friends from being hurt by his Scream of Death. He didn't need to tell his friends twice to leave the room; they tore out of there as fast as their speed could take them.

Catching Kinch's eye outside, Hogan nodded towards the ladder. All three men began climbing as fast as possible, since they could feel that their arms and legs were shaking on the inside. They barely got into the barracks in time to cover their ears from the low whistling sound. Fortunately, the rest of the men were still out enjoying the day, except for LeBeau who had just entered into the barracks.

"Louis, we need to get out of 'ere. I'll explain later, but for now the barracks may not be safe," Newkirk informed his friend, grabbing him by the arm and turning him around towards the exit.

With that, all of the men left the barracks, and Newkirk and Hogan could only hope that it wouldn't catch fire. _It would be very 'ard explaining _that _to the Krauts!_ he thought to his commanding officer. Hogan could only nod his agreement to his man's assessment of the situation.

Down below in the tunnels, Carter could only watch in horror as the room he was in began to catch on fire. However, he was powerless to put it out, since he was still unable to suppress his scream while bending forward, clutching his stomach. The noise grew louder and louder, until even Carter began to feel the pain of his own powers. Suddenly, just as he felt that he couldn't handle it any longer, he slumped unconscious against the walls of the tunnel, since all of his strength had been drained from his body.

Outside the barracks, Newkirk could sense that the worst of the danger was over. _I believe it's safe to go back inside_ he thought to all of his friends. As soon as they had descended into the tunnels, the men were greeted by a wall of smoke emitting from the room where Carter was.

Newkirk didn't need to think twice about what had to be done. Faster than humanly possible, he rushed back into the barracks, grabbing as many buckets as he could. Before long, he and the others had formed a line, passing the buckets from the sink, through the barracks, down the ladder, through the tunnels and into the room where Carter had been. After approximately fifteen minutes, they had succeeded in putting the fire out.

Back below in the tunnels, Newkirk rushed over to their private room, since he knew that Carter would be as weak as he had been after their battle with the Engels. Earlier, LeBeau had placed the blood on their table, since neither he nor Kinch knew the combination to the others' safe. Picking up two of the bags, he rushed over to help his friend. As he opened one of the bags, he was relieved to see that the burns didn't seem to be as bad as they had been on him. _It looks like second-degree, not third-degree burns_ he thought to himself. _That's probably because as a younger vampire, Carter would 'ave less power with 'is Scream_.

Pouring the blood down his friend's mouth, Newkirk was relieved to see that Carter seemed to be coming around. As he placed one hand on his wrist, he inwardly smiled to himself, seeing that his pulse was beginning to regulate itself. He quickly repeated the act with the second bag, and this time Carter was able to open his eyes.

Looking around, Carter could only weakly ask, "Did I hurt anyone?"

"Only these cots," Newkirk said, touching what remained of them, which was little more than simple ashes. "Thankfully the fire was contained to this room, so none of the equipment was ruined."

"Never mind about that," Carter quickly replied. "I'm only glad that none of you were hurt….But what about the Krauts? Did they hear anything?"

"The sound wasn't carried much beyond the exterior of the barracks, so I think we're safe there," Hogan replied. "Fortunately, all of the men were outside enjoying the day, so they probably didn't hear anything either."

"I suppose we'll have to ask Nimrod if he has access to any more cots then," Kinch said, speaking up. "But I don't understand something. We all know that Newkirk has his Scream of Death, but he told us that a vampire only gets that power after he's been around for one hundred fifty years. If you've only been a vampire for ten years, how did this happen?"

"It must be some more of Gretel's magic," Hogan, Newkirk, and Carter replied at the same time, though Carter could only answer more weakly than his two friends.

"It will take some time for you to get better. For now, just try to rest up," Newkirk replied. He quickly hurried out of the room, before coming back with the bottle of sleeping pills. "But if you feel that Gretel is beginning to take control again, you better use these."

"Thanks," Carter replied, gratefully taking the bottle from his friend.

"We better see if Klink has any more sleeping pills too," Hogan said, looking at his men around him. Turning back to Carter, he could only ask, "Do you need one of us to stay with you?"

"Sir, I'd rather not. If Gretel has this much control over me, I don't want to hurt you. I'll be fine, especially now that I have this right by me," Carter replied, weakly pointing to the bottle of pills that were on the floor.

Leaving his man to recuperate on his own as per his wishes, Hogan could only shake his head back-and-forth. Many thoughts were flowing through his mind at the moment, but two of them were taking prominence over the others. _I wonder why Gretel didn't steal my fangs as well? Maybe she didn't know that I was a vampire? After all, I certainly wasn't one when Newkirk brought her here the last time._

Turning to his corporal, he voiced aloud the other thought that he had. "Whoever this friend of yours is, I can only hope that he'll be able to help us."

"I believe 'e can," Newkirk replied. "As to answer your question from earlier, 'ave you ever 'eard of a vampire named Angel?"

AN: Angel is the property of Josh Whedon's universe.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Believing in Magick

As soon as LeBeau had left the infirmary, Wilson let out a sigh of relief. He was not used to treating Hogan's men, and he couldn't remember the last time LeBeau had visited him with such a horrendous injury. Sure, sometimes they were injured during their missions, but it was usually just a simple scratch or bruise, nothing serious. It wasn't anything that his regular bag of medical tricks couldn't solve. Sitting down in one of the chairs, he wondered if now was the time.

He was extremely nervous and hesitant at the moment; as he got up from his chair, he began pacing again. _After all, it's been three weeks since my fortieth birthday, and what a celebration Hogan and his men threw for me!_ the sergeant remembered warmly, allowing a small smile to cross his face. _But Hogan and his men aren't like me. Sure, I did have to give the Colonel a blood transfusion a month-and-a-half ago, and I distinctly remember him closing his eyes, but this is different. _Sighing, he sat down on his chair again, resting his head on one fist, which in turn was resting on his right knee. _But there's a change in the air, especially with that…competitor stirring up trouble for the men again. She must be new like me, or otherwise… But at the moment, they probably need all of the help they can get. It's time I show them the _real _Sergeant Joseph Wilson._

With that, Wilson hurried over to a spot on the floor that appeared to be just another wooden plank. Saying a couple words, he opened up the secret compartment and pulled out what he needed, or at least what he hoped he needed. With that, he hurried over to Barracks Two, not knowing how his colonel would take the news.

HHH

Down below in the tunnels, Hogan could only stare at his corporal, a quizzical expression clearly registering on his face. "No, I can't say that I have. Who is Angel?" he asked. "More importantly, how can he help us?"

"It's a long story, sir. Would you prefer the short version or the long version?" he asked. However, he only needed one glance from his commanding officer before he knew what the answer would be. "Right then, the whole story. No more secrets, as you said once," Newkirk responded, answering his own question.

"You see, Angel is an Irishman who was born Liam, in the year 1727. 'E was changed in 1753 by 'is sire, Darla…And no, you don't want 'er on this team. She's not exactly the most 'umane vampire. Anyway, I met 'im in the year 1890. I've lost count of 'ow many people 'e's killed, and my guess is so 'as 'e…"

However, he was suddenly cut off by Hogan, who was remembering well a particular part of the conversation that he, his corporal and Carter had once engaged in when he had first opened up to them. "Killed? More or less than three dozen? I need to make sure that I can trust this man."

However, before Newkirk could answer Hogan's question, a sinister smile suddenly appeared on his face. "What does it matter to you how many people Newkirk's vampire friend has killed? If I were you, I would be more worried about how many people _he's _going to kill!" the corporal shouted, speaking in Gretel's voice. Suddenly, his eyes shone green again, and his fangs emerged.

_Damn! Doesn't she ever leave us alone?_ Hogan asked, as he positioned himself in a fighting stance. "Newkirk, I don't want to hurt you, since I realize that you're not 'you' at the moment. Whatever Gretel is doing to you this time, you have to continue to fight it!"

Hearing the commotion that was occurring in the main tunnels, Kinch and LeBeau could only quickly exchange glances. Even though Carter had wished it otherwise, they had both decided to watch over him after the bottle of sleeping pills had taken effect.

"If it's not one, it's the other," LeBeau said, before quickly rushing out of the tunnels, with Kinch fast behind him. However, the sight that lay before them shocked them to their core.

Before Hogan had the opportunity to fight back, Newkirk had thrown himself at his colonel, pushing him down to the floor of the tunnels. Before either of them knew what was happening, the corporal quickly and forcefully tore into Hogan's neck, and he began drawing the blood out of his commanding officer's body. He could feel the necessary liquid leaving Hogan's body and entering into his own veins, which only encouraged him to continue the act.

"Peter, stop it!" Kinch and LeBeau simultaneously shouted, trying to get their friend off of his leader. However, reaching both hands behind him, he roughly pushed them backwards against the wall of the tunnels. Regaining their temporary lost footing, they tried yet again to help their friend stop his act of bloodsucking, knowing full well that Gretel was controlling him at the moment.

"My God, it's worse than I thought!" a familiar voice suddenly exclaimed, seeming to come from out of nowhere. Turning around, LeBeau and Kinch's faces grew pale upon seeing that their camp medic had managed to sneak into the tunnels without either of them hearing him. They figured that he must have descended while they were trying to get Newkirk off of Hogan, which would have interfered with their supernatural sense of hearing.

"Wilson, what are you doing down here? We can explain…" Kinch quickly said, trying to keep control of the situation.

"There's no time for explanations!" Wilson quickly exclaimed back, while removing what appeared to be a green leaf from his jacket pocket. He quickly made his way over to Newkirk, and began rubbing the leaf on any area of exposed skin that he could find. The corporal responded by letting out a painful shriek, and pulling his fangs out of Hogan's neck. Before he had the opportunity to close his mouth, Wilson stuck the leaf inside his mouth. Even though the corporal tried spitting it out, the plant quickly dissolved on his tongue.

All was quiet for approximately thirty seconds, during which time seemed to be at almost a stand-still. As though in a daze, Newkirk looked around him, until his sight fell upon his commander.

"Gov'nor! Sir! What…what did I do to you?" Newkirk asked, suddenly getting down on his knees. "No…no…" he could only weakly whisper, shaking his head back and forth. _Curse Gretel to 'ell! I would never, ever 'urt the Colonel!_

Trying to make amends for an action that he knew he wasn't responsible for, Newkirk quickly picked up his commander and carried him into their private blood room. Opening the safe, he quickly drew out two of the blood bags, and began feeding them to Hogan.

Upon seeing that his commanding officer was feeling better, Newkirk could only sit back against the wall of the tunnel, wrapping his arms around himself. "Sir, I'm so sorry. Please, you 'ave to believe me that I would _never _'urt you! I don't _want _to 'urt you!" he said, trying to hide the tears in his eyes.

"Newkirk, it's understandable. I realize that wasn't you out there, drinking my blood. I promise you, as soon as we find Gretel and retrieve your teeth, everything should be better," Hogan tried to reassure his man.

However, Newkirk could only respond by standing up. "Maybe I should fly back to London…maybe if I put enough distance between me and Gretel, she won't be able to control me any longer. It's one thing to be drugged, but quite another thing to be…" His voice trailed off, unable to finish his thoughts.

"Maybe if you have this, it will help you," the same familiar voice said, suddenly speaking up. "It's a leaf from the horehound plant."

At first, Newkirk and Hogan could only stare at Wilson, both being unable to utter a single syllable. At last, Hogan spoke up, "Wilson…Joseph, this isn't what it looks like. You're having a dream…dream…dream."

"Sir, that trick might work on the Krauts, but it won't work on me. I know what you are." Upon seeing Kinch and LeBeau gather around him, he turned to face them. "What _all _of you are."

"Yes, we're part of Hogan's Underground unit," Kinch said, hoping that this had to be what Wilson was referring to.

However, he could only shake his head back and forth, allowing a smile to appear on his face. "That isn't what I mean, Golden."

Kinch could only stand there, completely flabbergasted though he tried his best not to let this expression show.

"It's ok, Kinch. I know that you and LeBeau are werewolves, and that the Colonel, Carter and Newkirk are vampires. It doesn't surprise me. I _will _admit that I was a bit shocked learning that Klink was Nimrod, however," Wilson calmly replied. "You see, I too have a supernatural secret of my own." Letting out a big sigh, the medic decided to take the plunge, knowing that it was too late to turn back now. "I'm a warlock, or a male witch."

Hogan and his men didn't know whether they should be surprised or not. After all, it was one thing for Gretel to be a witch. She was a woman that they had only come in contact with for several hours once, and they didn't know too much about her. But it was quite another thing for one of the men in camp to confess to being a witch, especially a man that all of them knew relatively well and had worked with on several occasions.

"But that is impossible!" LeBeau suddenly shouted, voicing his friends' thoughts for them. "Surely our Colonel, or Newkirk or Carter would have been able to read your mind and discover this, or Kinch and I would have been able to scent it."

"Well, I haven't been a witch for very long. You see, unlike natural werewolves, no natural witch or warlock is born knowing magick. They have to come into their powers on their own, and always around a specific birthday. Some get their powers at a young age, such as sixteen. I had to wait until my fortieth birthday three weeks ago until I received my powers. But my mother—she's a witch also—always told me what I was going to be one day, so I've spent years reading and studying as much as I could, waiting until the day that I could put it to good use."

"That would certainly explain the case with the downed flier that we rescued two weeks ago," Hogan said, jumping into the conversation. "He was in really bad condition, and started having a heart attack two hours after we had rescued him. We all thought he was a goner, but you requested to be left alone with him."

"Yes, and after I had performed my magick, his heart was completely healed," Wilson said, smiling triumphantly. However, a dark shadow suddenly appeared on his face as he remembered a less-than-fortunate event that had once occurred. "I only wish that I had my powers during your Operation Briefcase. I would have been able to save that man…I _should _have been able to save that man!" he shouted, punching his left fist into his right palm.

"Wilson, you did the best you could under the circumstances. You can't be beating yourself up over that. Except, there's a couple of things that I don't understand," Hogan said.

Shooting his commanding officer a sly look, Wilson could only ask, "A couple?"

Responding with his usual twinkle in his eye, Hogan responded, "Well, for starters, what is magick?" he asked, emphasizing the "k" at the end of the word.

"Magick is when the elements are involved—namely Earth, Air, Water and Fire. That plant that I gave Newkirk was part of the Earth, and it's horehound. I know that there's another witch in town, and from the look of things she seems to be practicing dark magick. The plant I used will help you, since its properties include protection, healing, and the banishing of negative entities."

"So I suppose magic without the "k" is what I did before the war, as a regular stage magician," Newkirk replied, trying to understand the difference between the two words.

"Exactly. But you better keep this, and there's plenty more where this came from," Wilson said, handing Newkirk the rest of the horehound leaves. "Tell me, has Carter been affected by Gretel's magick too?"

"He has," Kinch replied. "Do you have any for him?" Wilson didn't answer, but instead only pulled out some more of the leaves and gave them to the sergeant.

"So, tell me," Hogan said, crossing his hands in front of his chest. "Are all witches, or warlocks as knowledgeable as you are?"

Wilson could only let out a small laugh, before shaking his head back and forth. "If only. I will admit that it did take me a while to put everything together. I was always standing downwind at the time, which is why Kinch and LeBeau probably didn't pick up my scent. But I've often sneaked out of the camp myself, in order to find the herbs, plants, and stones that I need for my magick. I saw all five of you going out on a mission once, and since only three of you were human and two of you were wolves, I was able to deduce that Kinch and LeBeau had to be werewolves. Plus, another time I saw Klink going on a mission with you, so I figured the only way that would make sense is if he was Nimrod. Then, in front of my eyes, I saw him shift into a wolf also. I heard you calling your men by name—Eagle, Golden and Loup, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out the Iron _Eagle,_ the _Golden _Gloves boxer, and finally knowing that Loup is the French word for wolf. "

"And our own secret?" Hogan asked.

"That was more of a lucky guess than anything else," Wilson replied, almost sheepishly. "I remembered how you had to close your eyes during the transfusion, and I figured it might have had something to do with a vampire's desire for blood. I also noticed that out of all your men, Newkirk and Carter were looking at you with the greatest amount of concern."

"So, what other magick can you perform?" LeBeau asked, his curiosity having been piqued.

"Mostly healing spells for the time being, though I do know a couple of other ones as well," Wilson answered. "Would you like to see one?"

However, he didn't bother waiting for a reply. Staring at the safe, he allowed himself to visualize and concentrate on what he was about to do. After several carefully chosen words—

_With this intent the magick I dare,_

_To send out to the element of Air._

_The magick I cast this spell I'll see,_

_This is my will so mote it be._

, the men all watched in amazement as the medic was able to make the safe levitate a foot in the air.

"Boy, you really _are _a witch!" another voice suddenly spoke up from outside the main entrance, and all eyes turned to see a familiar face.

"Carter, how are you feeling?" Hogan asked with worry, hoping that Gretel wouldn't try to take control of his sergeant again anytime soon.

As though reading his mind, even though Wilson possessed no telepathy of his own, the medic spoke up. "I should trust that Carter is feeling well, but he better take some of that horehound just in case." With that, Kinch handed him the leaf that just moments ago he had received from Wilson.

Carter hesitantly took it, before sticking it in his mouth. "Minty," was all he could say. "Do you really think this will help to block Gretel's magick?" he asked. Sheepishly, he continued, "I heard the entire conversation, so I understand the difference between Newkirk's magic and your magick."

"It will work, but unfortunately it isn't the best remedy for her dark magick. There's a spell that can be used to break another witch's hex, but that one is extremely difficult to learn. You'll have to take one of those leaves every time Gretel starts to control you. The good news is that it will work immediately, but the bad news is that if she's completely controlling you, she'll realize what you're trying to do and might be able to stop you from eating the leaf."

"So, it looks like we'll still need Angel's help after all," Hogan said, understanding that Wilson's magick could only go so far.

"Who's Angel?" everybody except for Newkirk asked at the same time.

"He's a vampire friend of Newkirk's. He was just telling me about him, until Gretel was kind enough to interrupt our conversation."

However, Hogan silently caught Wilson's eye, and together the two of them left the tunnels, making sure to get out of his two shape shifter's hearing range. "Wilson, I don't know how to take this, and I don't know how to admit this. But, I've always heard that witches sold their souls in exchange for their powerful abilities," Hogan said, momentarily keeping his head lowered before raising it again.

"Sir, I think you've been reading too much from your history book again. Natural witches and warlocks are born knowing that one day they'll acquire their powers. If you're referring to those Salem Witch Trials, or another set of cases, those were nothing more than the rantings Ann Putnam and her group of friends accusing innocent people. Not a single one of the twenty people that died was a witch, and certainly none of them sold their souls. I worship God, and not some other deity, same as everybody else in this camp." However, Wilson's shock and slight annoyance at hearing his colonel admit his feelings turned to one of happiness. "I thank him every night for these powers, and the fact that with them I can better serve this camp as a medic. In fact, there's something I'd like to show all of your men, you included."

HHH

A short trip to the infirmary later, Wilson and the others were standing before the same spot that he had opened only a short time earlier. After saying another spell, the men watched in amazement as the completely solid piece of wood, with no trap door attached, was able to be opened.

"As you can see, I keep all of my magickal supplies here. Since I'm the only one who knows the spell to opening the compartment in the floor, the Krauts would never be able to find it. In fact, I placed a spell that if they ever dug here, everything would be transported to one of the room in the tunnels. After they left, all I would have to do is say the spell again and the supplies would be transported back here."

"But wouldn't that have been a little risky?" Hogan asked. "Suppose me or one of my men had found your supplies before you were ready to reveal your secret to us?"

With another sly smile, Wilson could only ask, "Sir, how long did it take you to find where Newkirk and Carter kept their blood? I suppose you're probably tired of your men keeping secrets from you by now, but it was really the only way. I needed to make sure that you would understand what I was and would accept me for who I really am before I could feel safe exposing myself to you. I figured that since you all have your own supernatural secrets, that you would be able to handle mine with relative ease."

"That does make sense," Hogan said after a couple of seconds of silence, while he was thinking over what his medic had just told him.

"Wilson, what is that?" Carter asked, inquisitively pointing to a black-covered, but beautifully bound book.

"Ah, that is my most prized possession. It's called _The Book of Shadows_, and every natural witch or warlock has one. They use it to record their spells, any important dreams that they might have, and rituals that they may have performed in. Mine just has all of the plants, herbs and stones that I use, and what their properties are. I also record when I used them, and for what purpose. So, it also serves as a quick inventory so I know when I'm running low on supplies….I would show it to you guys, but this is highly personal for me. You must promise me that under _no _circumstance will you ever look through this book."

"Wilson, we trust you with our lives. If you don't want us looking through it, we promise that we won't. Right fellas?" Hogan asked, to which all of the men also added their own promises.

"Right. Well, should I continue telling you about Angel?" Newkirk tentatively asked.

"By all means, go ahead," Hogan answered. "With everything that Gretel has done in the span of only one day, we'll be needing all the help we can get."

AN: Information presented in this chapter taken from _The Complete Idiot's Guide to Wicca and Witchcraft_. [Also, if you enjoyed this chapter, I recommend Crystal Rose's work-in-progress LiveJournal story _The Spellcaster's Apprentice_.]


	8. Chapter 8

Many thanks to Sierra Sutherwinds for helping me to better understand Angel, and for assistance in writing the middle scenes

Chapter Eight: The Past Becomes Present

Newkirk shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He knew that Angel's past and his own were intertwined, and not in the best of circumstances. _If I tell me mates about 'im, I'll 'ave to speak about me own past as well. _All _of me past—both the good and the bad. But I've barely even told Carter, me best mate about everything. 'Ow can I possibly tell them about everything I've seen, everything I've done? It's too much…it's simply too much…_

Looking between his friends, Newkirk let his gaze linger on Carter, and then Hogan. He looked away for only a brief, superhumanly quickly moment, which he knew that they didn't notice. _But they've accepted me so far, and everything that I 'ave—me wings, me Scream of Death, not to mention that whole incident with the unholy water brew. The Colonel doesn't even mind that I fought against 'is country during the American War for Independence….But that was when I was 'uman, as Benjamin Putnam, and me current life as Peter Newkirk. It's going to be very different telling them about my third persona, as Richard Thompson._

Finally, Newkirk took a purposeful sigh before speaking up. "Wilson, I want to thank you for preventing me from taking the Colonel's life just now. But this is something that I need to discuss with just me four mates, for now. I'll feel you in later."

"I understand. I know that the five of you have a shared history that I may never understand. Besides, while I was studying to be a warlock, I came across a couple of chapters on Angelus and Angel…and several paragraphs on Richard Thompson as well."

Newkirk could only respond with a look of complete surprise. "I suppose you know most of what I'm going to tell the others then. But please, Richard Thompson and Peter Newkirk only share the same body, because otherwise they're two completely different people." Lowering his voice to a whisper, Newkirk continued, "Please, you know that I would never harm you. I don't want you to be scared of me."

Looking into his friend's eyes, Newkirk could tell that if there was any fear towards him in Wilson's soul, he was doing a tremendous job at hiding it. Throwing his arm around him, Wilson could only respond, "Trust me, I know. You, along with the others, are doing too much good for the Allies to cause me to doubt your loyalties. I know that you've learned to master your darkness, and that you helped Carter and the Colonel to master theirs as well. Richard and Peter are indeed two completely different people."

Newkirk allowed a small smile to form on his face. "Thank you Joseph. But I am curious as to how you know so much about me? We don't talk very often, so I've probably come across as a little secretive."

Flashing his friend a knowing smile, Wilson answered, "As a witch, I have practiced divination a number of times with my crystal ball. It allows me to see the future, though it isn't always accurate. Most of the images are fuzzy, and hard to interpret. But, several times I've seen a picture of this man," Wilson said, hurrying over to his hidden compartment, which he opened again. Drawing out a rough pencil sketching, he proceeded to show the image to Newkirk and the others. "Rupert Giles isn't my cousin's descendant for nothing, you know. Apparently, the supernatural runs in our bloodline—his father, my cousin, is a Watcher. If only my cousin was here during your battle with the Engels."

However, Newkirk was secretly glad that presumably, his cousin and his Slayer were off fighting evil vampires in the States. "Perhaps, but I think we did a good job of taking care of those ruddy vampires on our own. Besides, as a vampire meself, I've never been very fond of Watchers and their Slayers. Just because a lot of vampires don't 'ave souls doesn't mean that _all_ of us are evil, soulless monsters." Allowing a small smile to form on his face, Newkirk continued, "But Anne did tell us that in the future, there will be a girl named Buffy Summers. From 'er description, she seems like an all right kid….Just as long as she keeps 'er wooden stakes away from the three of us," he said, pointing amongst himself, Carter, and Hogan.

"Agreed," Wilson replied. "But I don't think Carter would be very interested in hanging out with the Scourge of Europe anyway. Just because Angelus is now Angel, unfortunately I can't say the same for Spike, Darla or Drusilla."

Suddenly, Hogan felt that although he had spent this conversation in silence, listening to his two friends speaking, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. "The Scourge of Europe? Who are they, and who are these other three people that you're talking about? And why," turning to face Wilson, "did you call Newkirk 'Richard Thompson'?"

"It's a long story, sir—and it isn't a very pleasant one at that. But it's about time that you," Newkirk moved his hand to encircle his friends, "_all_ of you knew about me past." With that, he led the way out of the infirmary, over to and through the barracks, and down into the tunnels. Making himself comfortable while he invited his friends to do the same, Newkirk began telling his side of the story.

"The year of 1797, I was still feeling pretty lousy. Me 'unger for the necessary substance, for blood kept me awake until I satisfied it. But I never partook of me meals the way that I do now, drinking it from the bags and all. Back then I killed, and," allowing his head to hang for a couple of seconds, Newkirk found that he had to force himself to meet his commanding officer's gaze again, "plenty of it. But once I did so, the guilt and inner turmoil would not let me sleep. Even though I was one of those vampires who were fortunate enough to 'ave a soul, you wouldn't know it by the way that I acted back then. Those were the worst of times indeed. That night in particular, I went downstairs to the pub on the ground floor of the building where I lived. They were 'aving a party, or so I thought for the loud singing and laughs. I remember that it was payday in the mines. At least a dozen Irish miners were there; all of them loud and drunk.

I 'ad moved back 'ome to England just a couple of months ago, and was settling back into me old life. Except, it was no longer me. As you told Carter and me two times, the person that I was 'ad died. Benjamin Putnam 'ad died on that battle field, and 'e was nowhere to be found. I didn't feel like going under my old name, so I took the name of Richard Thompson. Even though I did send me death reports into the papers like I once told you, I figured that this name was common enough so that any Slayers, who are just like 'Unters, wouldn't grow suspicious. The voyage back 'ome was long and 'ard, especially since I was the only vampire on board. Fortunately, the ship was crawling with rats. It's not something that I would ever recommend, if it can be avoided. Once I was 'ome, I found me sister again. She was the only one I trusted to tell what I 'ad become. I wasn't lying when I told you about me parents. Me mother 'ad died of the smallpox, and me father 'ad become devastated by 'er death. 'E took to drinking to cope with 'is emotions, but 'e often beat me and me sister. Mavis couldn't stand it, so I took 'er away. It was then, in the fall of 1796, that I changed Prudence Putnam into Mavis Thompson.

Anyway, although 'appy, the chanting was rather nostalgic. The miners 'ad gathered around a piano, and they were asking for old Irish songs. The pianist made jokes between melodies and sang along with the crowd. There was something about 'im that caught me attention right away. I couldn't see what. 'E was tall and strong... but above all, 'e was extremely pale. 'E laughed the loudest, as though 'e was having a good time. And yet, 'e didn't look as though 'e meant it.

At one moment, 'e called for a woman to get closer to 'is side. _Darla_ was 'er name, or so 'e said. She was blond and mesmerizing. The men grew quiet all at once as she walked among them. 'Er beauty was uncanny, almost radiant. I became attracted to 'er almost as easily as anybody else in that room. Then, I 'ad to notice 'ow pale she was. Now, there was no doubt in me mind about what they were. They were vampires. But not ordinary vampires, not the kind of vampire that me and Mavis were...

If she was Darla, then, that man 'ad to be Angelus. The Scourge of Europe, as they were known, was right in front of me eyes.

Now, what 'appened next, remained in me mind for years after. I've tried to push the memories so far back into me mind that I wouldn't 'ave to think about them. But once in a blue moon, the nightmares surface. Darla sang one of those songs that make grown men cry. Angelus finished with the piano and invited everybody for a last drink. They walked among the miners like wolves among sheep. I knew exactly what they were looking for. I 'ad seen the look in their eyes countless times before, between me and me sister. Although most 'umans never notice, the expression about desire for blood is unmistakable to us vampires. Those poor drunk miners... As I said, they were the perfect game... I saw 'er pointing at one of the youngest... I saw Angelus coming from behind. They talked to 'im and they joked and laughed. The poor bloke followed them outside.

I knew 'ow 'e would end. For a minute, I 'ad 'is fate in me hands... and I did nothing. I knew 'ow to fight as a vampire, and I could 'ave saved 'im. I could 'ave kept 'im alive…" Hogan and the others watched as a single tear fell down Newkirk's face, which he absentmindedly brushed away before continuing his story. "I stayed there, drinking me shame out. I couldn't understand why I took it so personally. That man meant nothing to me. Angelus and Darla were there all night, repeating their bloody number several times, until they were satisfied. I watched them work... for moments, I was fascinated... excited...I wanted to be a part of their gang…

I read about them in the newspapers... I followed their path of blood and destruction... People feared them. Eventually, Angelus sired a young woman, named Drusilla. She, in turn, sired Spike, who in life was known as William Pratt. Mothers walked with their children by the 'and... Women didn't walk alone, especially at night... even men avoided going out at night if they could avoid it. I was always the first at the crime scene; I wanted to watch, I needed to see... Suddenly, it got me... it wasn't the blood... it wasn't death... It was the sadism, the unnecessary cruelty... I admired their work and I sickened meself... I became obsessed with the idea of stopping them. The vampire in me loved what they were doing to their victims—torturing them with railroad spikes, for example. That's how William got the name of Spike. But the other part of me, the part of me that recognized that I still 'ad a soul, was completely sickened by what I came across. If only that part of me was stronger… For a while, I tracked them around.

It was the year of 1890, when I finally tumbled on them. I 'eard about a big earthquake near Zagreb and I knew I would find Angelus and 'is troupe there. Boy, they were 'aving fun... I mean, the city 'ad been ruddy devastated; buildings were gone and people were dying left and right on the streets. I saw Darla pretending to take care of the victims, while in reality she was feeding on them. I walked around, trying to put me mind on something else... Part of me wanted to join 'er in 'er sick feast, while the other part of me just wanted to put a stake through 'er. If I 'ad been confused about what I was before, that was nothing compared to 'ow I felt at the time. The smell of blood was too strong. Then, I met Angelus.

'E laughed when 'e saw me, and it wasn't at all like the laughter in the bar. This was cold, cynical; you could practically taste the taint of evil that enveloped it. There was a young woman at 'is feet. Alive. I could 'ear the blood pounding through 'er dying 'eart. I could smell the warm, thick blood that was coming from 'er wounds." For a brief second, Newkirk's eyes flashed green with desire, which he had to force to return to his normal shade. "Angelus told me about all the times that 'e 'ad seen me behind them. 'E was flattered about me obsession. 'E talked to me softly about life and death. 'E spoke as though 'e 'ad read me thoughts and 'ad reached to the very core of my chagrin. I asked 'im if 'e possessed telepathy. He laughed again. 'E informed me that they didn't. They didn't need it to smell the stench of a "filthy 'uman soul" in me, as Darla put it. That's one of the differences between vampires with souls and those without—only those of us with souls possess the power of telepathy and of being capable of performing "soul-tests."

'E picked up the girl and offered to share 'er with me. I found meself 'esitating to accept or decline the invitation. I always thought I was stronger than that. I always thought that if I tried 'ard enough, I could keep meself from killing any more 'umans. But the blood dripping from 'er body called me strongly... I couldn't resist my desire much longer. We drank together for the first time...

I felt lost again. All those years building up me new life as a vampire 'ad come to a 'alt. I was starting anew in a different skin. I felt as though I 'ad lost all traces of Benjamin, and that Richard 'ad taken over me body and mind completely. As you said once, I was completely lacking a "severe case of common sense." I couldn't even think of going back 'ome to me sister now. Mavis would kill me if she knew what 'ad 'appened to me, what I 'ad done. Especially after I 'ad warned 'er against killing 'umans, after we 'ad been on the run for three years. She was the first one that I 'ad made the bracelet for, and I couldn't even follow me own advice. Somehow, I didn't mind...

I allowed Angelus to lead the way. 'E seemed to be the leader of us five, and we traveled all over Europe, leaving a trail of dead bodies in our wake. I obeyed 'is orders most of the time, as did the others. When I didn't, I was severely punished. I didn't mind.

I learned to love pain. First, it was their pain. The poor innocent victims, who cried and pleaded for their lives. I felt invincible, powerful and satisfied. I was their master. Their fate was in me 'ands. Sometimes, I allowed meself to be merciful and spared one or two. It was a never-ending struggle between the vampiric, evil Richard and Benjamin, who was still trying to 'old onto my 'umanity with 'is soul. But Angelus always 'ad a way to remind me that weakness was not tolerated among vampires. 'E made me pay, 'e made me bleed for me mistakes. I didn't mind... I knew I deserved the pain. Angelus thought 'e was punishing me for being too weak with my victims, I accepted the pain for those people I didn't 'ave the guts to spare.

After a while, I could not go on like this. Finally, after all those years, Benjamin was beginning to win the struggle against Richard. So, I allowed Angelus to punish me for the last time. 'E was particularly cruel and I thought I was going to die. I crawled to me bed and waited for 'im to go away. Angelus went downstairs for a drink. He got drunk. I took advantage of that and jumped out the window. Darla saw me, maybe the others did as well, but she was too busy disposing of a young couple of newlyweds that she 'ad just killed. She didn't think I was not coming back. That was the last time I saw 'er.

I was sick for a long time. I couldn't bear the stench of blood, and I tried to avoid it at all costs. I deprived meself out of guilt and madness. I knew I wouldn't die, I knew my suffering would last forever. I purposefully found a small boarding 'ouse that was known for its rat infestation. Any time Richard tried to take control of my body against Benjamin's wishes, I would try to satisfy my desire by drinking from the rats. But it was never the same… I felt that me sister wouldn't take me in, especially after she read me mind and discovered all of the evil that I 'ad committed. That was what I wanted. For months I just laid in me bed, never moving around much, just curled up with my guilt and turmoil. Then, the world collapsed. I 'eard the news of a new war and I couldn't resist the call to arms. Benjamin 'ad always been a soldier—it was the life that 'e knew best. Too much time 'ad passed, and I could barely remember me own childhood. But being a soldier was something that I remembered well, and I thought this might be my chance to put everything right in me life. If I 'ad a purpose and a just cause, I thought that I could learn to live with meself again. I joined my fellow countrymen and went off to fight.

The killing was brutal, but no one seemed to care much about it. I went on without restraint, enjoying the violence and drinking all the blood I could get. Benjamin seemed satisfied that I was doing it to protect me country, but Richard didn't care one way or the other. But it wouldn't be long before I felt empty again. I saw men dying all around me and I couldn't care less. I wondered if that was everything there was to me undead life.

Christmas came quietly that year. It might've gone unnoticed if not for an echo of _Silent Night_ coming from our trench. Me lads and I turned to see a small branch, all decorated with wires and stones that someone 'ad put in the middle of our lines. We 'ad to laugh. Suddenly, _Stiller Nacht _began to come in waves with the cold air. Our enemies at the other side of the field were answering our chanting. Soon, the Frenchmen on our left did the same...

I saw our officers coming out of the trench to talk with the German officers. The other trenches also sent their representatives. They were far away but I could sense what they were saying. I knew first before me mates that they were planning a truce for the night. I turned to see the men around me. They could see that something was 'appening but I couldn't tell them what without revealing me enhanced powers. Then, I 'eard some laughing, and it sounded very familiar to a voice that I 'ad 'eard many years ago.

I recognized 'im immediately, and it caused me to shudder. It was Angelus. 'E was right next to me. I wondered 'ow could I possibly miss 'ave missed 'im? I met 'im eye to eye, my green momentarily meeting 'is 'ardened features, and noticed something different. The men in the trenches were still alive.

Angelus smiled and nodded. 'E told me that 'e 'ad changed. 'E said that 'e wasn't the same vampire that I 'ad met before, that I 'ad followed around like a lost puppy dog before Benjamin kicked enough sense, if only momentarily, into me to get away from 'im. I didn't believe 'im. I might not carry any scars in me body, but there were plenty that were in me mind. The pain was still fresh and came back every time I closed me eyes. I called 'im Angelus but 'e corrected me. 'E said that 'e 'ad taken the name of Angel now.

Angel. 'Is eyes were moist and shiny with tears. In all me years with 'is group, I couldn't remember 'aving seen 'im cry just once. 'E smiled, and this time 'e looked sincere. But the fear was still lurking in me guts. I wanted to run far away from 'im. I could tell that even Richard 'ad grown terrified of this man. I couldn't confront 'im in front of the others and I didn't want to stay and see 'im going off with the killing. Not only was I afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop 'im, but I thought that Richard might take over again and join 'im in 'is mindless slaughter. 'E grabbed me arm and told me that 'e wasn't the same man anymore.

Once again, 'e seemed to be capable of reading me thoughts.

I asked 'im for Darla and the others. 'E shook 'is 'ead and sighed. 'E said that 'e 'ad left them. 'E abandoned 'is old ways altogether. 'E didn't tell me why, but little by little I saw the change. Even though 'e looked exactly the same, 'e acted different, and even spoke differently. What 'e was telling me seemed to be the truth—this didn't seem to be the same man that I 'ad left. That was when 'e told me 'e got 'is soul back.

I almost passed out due to plain shock and surprise. I didn't understand what 'e was saying at first. These vampires were different from me... They were bad and inhuman, merciless and sometimes, especially in Drusilla's case, completely insane. I feared them not because of what they were capable of, but because of what they couldn't do. They could not sympathize with the living, they could not understand suffering, they could not feel remorse or guilt over taking innocent lives... They didn't 'ave a soul... And yet, there 'e was, telling me that 'e 'ad a soul and it was really unpleasant.

We weren't able to talk much longer. Our commanding officer came to recruit us for a bloody morbid task. The enemy 'ad granted permission to go through their lines to pick up the bodies of our men. They would do the same in our lines. It didn't take us long because we were faster than ordinary men. But we suffered as much as any other soldier who worked with us.

Angel disappeared as soon as we finished. I thought I would never see 'im again.

The war didn't last more than four years... For an immortal who was closing in on 'is 150th year of existence as a vampire, it almost flew by like a dream. It wasn't that I, or Benjamin, wanted to go on with the killing, but things were much easier when I woke up every day and knew exactly what I would 'ave to do. The closer peace was, the more uncertain me life seemed to get. The last week of the war my angst grew. There was nothing for me to do. Once again, I was there drowning on me own thoughts. The nightmares of the things I'd done through the years came to 'aunt me with a vengeance. I couldn't take the faces of my victims off me mind... I saw them even at daylight... Crying, torturing me with questions that I couldn't answer." Turning to look directly at his Colonel, Newkirk continued, "You once told us that you 'ad a conversation with yourself, and that Tiger was there as well. You didn't 'ave to tell me, but I knew exactly what you meant by that—it was that way for me, too. But thankfully you only 'ad your ghosts visit you once. Mine never left me alone, would 'ardly let me know a moment's peace.

The last day of the war, November eleventh, I decided to put an end to me suffering. Richard was laughing at me weakness, saying that if I couldn't live as a proper vampire, then perhaps I shouldn't live at all. Benjamin was disgusted at the way that Richard was tricking and treating 'is soul... They would declare the armistice one 'our before midnight... At that time exactly, I 'ad thought for weeks about what I would do. I knew that I would shoot meself and end it all... I climbed up to the top of the Eiffel Towel... It was dark, while the crowds began to gather around the Champs Elisées... No one 'ad seen me getting up there... no one would 'ear the shot...

I stared at me watch... The seconds passed slowly. I was getting more and more impatient. The clock in the cathedral gave the first stroke to eleven. I was ready... I was about to take me pistol when I 'eard footsteps behind me. I turned and there 'e was. Angel. He looked more together, a little quiet, at peace. We greeted each other, like veterans did. I was short in my conversation. All I wished for, all I wanted, was that 'e would go away, but 'e kept talking. 'E hadn't seen his mate in so long that 'e was eager to catch up with 'ow my life was going. 'E invited me for a drink at the cafe some stories below. I couldn't refuse... I didn't have any convincing excuse for not going.

We talked about the weather, the war and 'ow long the peace would last this time... Time flew by and the eleventh 'our passed. Soon, it was midnight, one o'clock... two, three... By four in the morning, we were finally drunk. Alcohol doesn't 'it us as fast or 'ard as it does with 'umans... I was still sober enough to remember that Angel couldn't go outside during the daytime. That's another difference between soulless and soul-filled vampires. Fortunately, the celebrations were still going on and no one would notice a couple of guys drinking until they dropped.

Angel shrugged. 'E looked at the sunrise through the window and drank some more. I did too, and then I had to confess my fault. In one motion, I spilled out everything to 'im. I told 'im about the weight in me 'eart and me soul... the voices inside me 'ead, the ghosts in front of me eyes, and my wish to put an end to all of that... I told 'im of Richard's anger, and of Benjamin's disgust.

Angel stared at me and laughed. 'E knew all along. Although 'e 'ad been there by chance, 'e 'ad guessed my intentions and 'ad decided to intervene. I didn't know if I should be grateful or mad at 'im... But the fact was that I 'ad just lost me opportunity... My pain 'ad subsided to more manageable levels... I 'ad me life in me 'ands, and that gave me some peace of mind.

Before I could tell 'im about me change of mind, Angel spoke again. E' told me that 'e 'ad the same intentions, that 'e was waiting at the top of the Eiffel Tower for sunrise. 'E was also ready to die and for the same reasons as me... 'Is guilt was much deeper, though. He talked about a gypsy curse and some everlasting punishment. 'E told me that in 1898, while we were in Romania, 'e had made the mistake of killing the beloved daughter of a Romany tribe. As punishment, they 'ad restored 'is 'uman soul. Suffering was eating him inside and sometimes, it grew unbearable. Richard 'ad accepted the fact that I still 'ad a soul, and 'ad tried to work around it. But Angel was still getting used to 'is, and the transformation from the evil Angelus to 'aving a conscience as Angel was much 'arder on him. Only me presence 'ad stepped between 'im and 'is destiny. Talking me out of me suicidal intentions 'ad 'elped 'im realize that there was still much to do before dying. We both gave thanks for being there to stop the other from killing ourselves.

We 'ad to laugh at our pathetic lives. We 'ad to admit that 'elping each other felt good. It was then that Angel 'elped me pick a new name. 'E said that Richard Thompson was behind me, and that a new life waited for me. We agreed that Peter Newkirk would be a suitable name. We promised to find a good deed to do every day, until there were no more we could possibly do on this planet and we could kill ourselves in peace. The day wore off and soon it was safe for Angel to go out again. We said our goodbyes and planned to meet again within fifty years or so. I asked 'im if 'e thought we would last that long. Angel smiled and shrugged. I 'onestly thought that this would be the last time I would see 'im...

I finally 'ad the courage and conviction that I needed to 'ead 'ome. These past twenty-plus years 'ave flown by in a rush. Mavis was delighted to see 'er brother again, and was relieved that this time I was 'ome to stay. I 'ad often written 'er letters, letting 'er know that I was safe. But, I felt that I couldn't even communicate to 'er that way after I 'ad killed that 'uman in Zagreb. She was worried sick about me, since I 'adn't spoken to 'er since 1890. We tried to rebuild our lives together, and we worked very 'ard to 'elp the other learn to master the darkness within. It was Mavis who came upon the idea of stealing our blood from the local 'ospitals, instead of taking it from innocent 'umans. In a way, Peter Newkirk became the perfect combination of Richard Thompson and Benjamin Putnam. Needless to say, I'm still a vampire, but I don't listen to Richard any more. Sometimes I still 'ave nightmares that e'll try to surface and regain control of me life, and naturally this whole incident with Gretel isn't 'elping any. A vampire may never lose control of all 'is darkness, even if there's only one or two percent still remaining. But you know me—I'd rather die before I willingly 'arm any of you!

Then, in 1925, a new chapter of me life unfolded. That year, on my birthday, I woke up with me wings and me Scream of Death. Fortunately, we were living in the countryside by then, so I didn't 'ave to worry about the neighbors. Mavis wasn't very 'appy that we 'ad to rebuild our 'ouse, but fortunately Anne was there to 'elp out. For some reason, 'er darkness never surfaced as fully as it did for me or Carter, which I was grateful of. But she's even older than I am—she was sired in the mid 1600s, so who knows 'ow she acted between then and when I met 'er in the late 1800s. Maybe she, too, learned 'ow to control 'er darkness and desire. I'm just thankful that I was on the side of good when I got those powers of mine. I 'ate to think what Richard could 'ave done with me Scream of Death, and 'ow much damage 'e could 'ave caused."

Taking a deep breath, Newkirk finished his story. "Anyway, that leads us up to the present day, the 'ere and the now." Looking around at his friends, he could only ask them, "Are there any questions?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Arrival

Before Hogan or any of his men could answer Newkirk's question, unbeknownst to them a sinister figure was watching them, angrily. She had kept guard over her "prisoners," and was terribly upset by this latest turn of events. Turning away from her crystal ball, she spat angrily on the floor.

"So, they think to trick me by bringing in an old friend?" she asked to nobody in particular, as there was nobody in the room with her. "Damn them! If I could find this Angel before Newkirk can get a hold of him, I would be able to steal his fangs as well. I'd like to see them stop me _then!_ No werewolf could _possibly_ be as powerful as a natural witch, and since they can't keep control over themselves, Hogan's corporal and sergeant are powerless against my magick."

Her angry smile temporarily turned into one of gloating satisfaction, as she walked away from the table where her crystal ball was kept, over to a small cabinet with no doors. Saying a small incantation, she took out her most prized possession—a very small glass jar, which was completely transparent. Inside were four pairs of canines, which she had carefully marked with either the letters "AC" or "PN." _Without these, Hogan's men are like putty in my hands._ However, her happy smile turned into a frown as that name crossed her mind—the name of Hogan. _If only he had been a vampire during my first visit to their Stalag, but alas, that was not the case. ALL three of them would have to bend to my will, if only my assistant knew better._

As though summoned by her simple act of thinking about him, Gretel's assistant emerged into the small room where she kept her magickal items. "You called?" he asked, an impassive expression registering upon his face.

She was about to say _I most certainly did not!_ before she allowed herself to change her mind. It wasn't his fault that the information he had provided her had proven incorrect; she realized that the fact was not his own. Still, she was one witch who knew how to hold a grudge when she wanted to. "Yes, I did. Is everything set for the next stage in our operation?"

"It is indeed—my love," he said. With that, she gently held out her delicate hand to him, which he quickly kissed before returning to an impassive expression. Though neither one of them had wanted it to be this way, finding that a professional relationship worked best under this particular sort of situation, they had found the other to be completely irresistible. They saw in the other what they loved most about themselves—cunning, trickery, scheming, and a whole slew of other less-than-pleasurable qualities. They had tried to maintain a professional relationship, but had found that to be almost impossible. Their love had grown slowly at first, and it was still lukewarm at best. Neither one of them wanted their relationship to get in the way of their mission, since they knew that if some tragedy was to befall the other, that shouldn't stop them from accomplishing their mission: to crush Hogan and his operation once and for all.

"It is only a shame that your brother couldn't complete the act, though he certainly tried his best…. For a dummkopf, that is."

"How dare you talk about my brother that way!" her assistant spat out, his impassive expression showing rage in his green eyes. "You leave him out of this! He tried to follow your orders—it is not his fault that he didn't know what to expect!"

"Well, he most certainly should have!... But that discussion is for another time. Now, you should hurry back to camp. I'm sure they must be missing you," she smiled with a most devious expression showing upon her face.

Her expression quickly matched his own, and he left the barn where they were currently staying to hurry back to camp. _Little do they suspect that there is a traitor in their midst…. _he thought warmly to himself.

HHH

Back below in the tunnels, Newkirk could only look at his friends with a great deal of anxiety and dread. He didn't know how his friends would react to his news of his past, as the evil Richard Thompson. Looking around at them, he could only wait for whatever they might have to say.

"Wow—just wow!" Carter finally spoke after what seemed like a lifetime of complete silence. "I know you told me some of this story, but I had never expected your life to be quite like that!"

"Oui, this is certainly…different," LeBeau said, and looking to his left, he could see that Kinch nodded to his friend's statement.

Newkirk allowed his gaze to shift from his friends only momentarily, before forcing himself to look at them again. So far, their expressions didn't appear to be ones of fear or anger, but instead of sympathy and compassion. He wondered if that was what they were _really _thinking, and for a brief moment he thought about looking into their souls to find out the truth. He quickly forced the idea out of his head, however. If anything, he was prepared for the realization that he might have to regain their trust and their friendship, and he knew that performing one of his soul-tests on them without their permission was not quite the way to accomplish that feat.

"I'm going to have to agree with what Wilson told you earlier—you've done too much good for both this team, and the Allied cause in general, to cause us to mistrust your loyalties. Besides, you certainly don't have to tell me about the darkness that comes from a vampire's true nature," Hogan said, warmly putting a hand around his friend before letting it drop.

"So, you're not angry or fearful at what Richard did?" Newkirk asked, scarcely believing what his friends had told him. _But that man, no, that vampire 'as done terrible things! I know I told the Colonel that I didn't want to 'ear 'im calling 'imself a monster, but that's exactly what Richard is. 'E _is _a ruddy monster._

"Yes, but you aren't" Hogan replied.

"Newkirk isn't what?" LeBeau and Kinch asked their commanding officer at the same time.

"Sorry, I keep on forgetting that you two aren't telepathic. I know I've had this ability for only a little over a month, but it feels like I've had this ability my whole life. Newkirk isn't a," Hogan paused, waiting for his friend to agree to allow him to share his private thoughts with the others. With a quick nod from Newkirk, Hogan finished his sentence, "monster."

To that, LeBeau's sympathetic expression changed into an incredulous one. "Mon ami, what you did as Richard and what you're doing now as Peter are indeed the acts of two different people."

"LeBeau is right, Peter. Besides, you don't hear Klink calling himself a 'monster,' do you? We've all had our darkness, and we've all learned to control it. Granted, we've never killed people, but I'm sure those rabbits would think differently," Kinch said.

To that, Newkirk could only give his friend a quizzical look. "What rabbits?" he asked.

"Back when I first shifted into Golden, I found that his wolf instincts were a bit hard to control. Of course I could still think and act like myself, but sometimes I wanted one thing while Golden wanted another. And one of his favorite things that he wanted was raw rabbit, and plenty of them. I've never been a big fan of rabbit, but ask Golden and he'll tell you something completely different," Kinch replied.

"I understand," Newkirk said, matter-of-factly. "But that still doesn't change what Richard did."

As though to answer his friend's statement, Hogan asked, "Corporal, who are you?"

"Wot? You know that I'm Corporal Peter Newkirk," he answered, but with a similar manner as though he was questioning one of Hogan's newest crazy plans to outwit and outsmart the local Krauts.

"That is _exactly_ who you are," Hogan replied with a smile.

Suddenly, the meaning of Hogan's question hit him, hard and fast. "Do you want me serial number as well?" he asked, with his usual smile showing. "But thanks, Gov'nor."

"Welcome, and Newkirk, I have an order to make of you," he said, his smile turning into a rather serious expression.

"Yes, sir?"

"I don't want you to _ever_ forget who you are now. It doesn't matter who you were in the past, the important thing is that you're on the right side in this war, and more importantly, the right side in life. You know who your real friends are, and you know how to control yourself and your desire for blood. As long as you remember that, I don't think you'll have a problem with Richard," Hogan said. There was a brief pause of thirty seconds, before he continued. "But now we have more pressing matters to deal with. If you haven't seen your friend in a while, how do you expect to get in contact with him?"

"Telepathically, of course. Just because 'e possesses no telepathic powers of 'is own, doesn't mean that I can't send one of me mind messages 'is way. Fortunately, at least Richard was smart enough to look up his brain patterns, which I remember well. 'Opefully it shouldn't be too 'ard to get in contact with 'im. But it's going to require a lot of concentration," Newkirk said, hoping that his commanding officer would take the hint.

"I understand," Hogan said simply. With that, he ushered the rest of his teammates out of the tunnels and back into the barracks. However, he noticed that Carter was hesitant, and that he was holding back. Figuring that whatever he had to do or say to Newkirk would only take a quick minute or two, Hogan let him stay behind while he followed Kinch out of the tunnels.

Carter was indeed hesitant, and he let his weight shift from one foot to the other. "You know, you didn't tell them _everything_," he said, barely above a whisper. He didn't want to arouse any angry feelings in his friend, so he wasn't sure if he should continue his train of thought or not.

Newkirk immediately understood what his friend was trying to get at. "What me and Angel did in the past is none of your business!" he angrily snapped at him, perhaps a bit too harshly than he had intended. He quickly regretted his small outburst upon seeing the saddened expression that had fallen on his friend's face. "I'm sorry Andrew, but there are some things that I simply _can't_ tell them. Perhaps in the future—Anne did tell us that people would be more open-minded then. But now 'ere, not in this war. Sure, Kinch and LeBeau may be werewolves, but they would never understand. They're still mortal, after all. And I don't even _want_ to think about what the Gov'nor would do if 'e knew the truth."

_Do your past actions mean nothing to you then?_ Carter quietly thought to his friend.

Trying to keep his thoughts private, Newkirk could only respond _More than you'll ever know, Andrew._ However, the corporal was hoping that his friend would pick up on what he was trying to tell him, and the smile that had replace his sad expression told him that his words had the desired effect.

"I wouldn't mind being locked up again, if that's the case," Carter warmly replied to his friend. "Of course, next time I wouldn't want to have to worry about fighting for my life….You know, your actions in Faust's cell really helped me during that period. If only…"

However, Carter's statement was cut off by his friend's reply. "The same is true 'ere, mate. The same is definitely true," Newkirk replied, giving his friend a warm smile. He knew that there were some things he couldn't and wouldn't discuss, not even in front of his best mate. Trying to change the subject, the corporal said, "Why don't you stay 'ere with me? I need to make sure that Gretel won't interfere with what I'm about to do. If she breaks the psychic link between me and Angel, she could do some serious 'arm to the both of us."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to leave you….If only Wilson was a stronger warlock, and could learn that spell that is necessary to removing Gretel's hex. I still find it hard to believe that he's a witch. You know, back home in my tribe, there are all sorts of legends about…"

"Carter, some quiet, please," Newkirk said, cutting off his friend before he could get into another one of his lengthy ramblings.

Newkirk moved off to their private room where they stored their blood, with Carter quickly following behind him. Of all the rooms that were connected to the tunnels, this one had the necessary vampiric vibes that were conductive to trying to reach Angel. These vibes were subtle, but could easily be picked up by anybody who was trying hard enough. Even though they were completely different from the type that Wilson would practice, the magickal vibes were always left behind in a certain place if a vampire, or vampires, had been there long enough.

Closing his eyes, Newkirk tried to concentrate on picking up the right brain patterns that belonged to his friend. He let his mind wander from here, there, and everywhere to find the particular set that he was so desperately seeking. After what seemed like an eternity, but was only around ten minutes or so, he found Angel's in his apartment.

_Angel? It's your old mate, Newkirk. We 'ave a problem, and we need your 'elp._

_Always jumping right to the chase, aren't you? You haven't changed since the last time I saw you, after the war. Oh, and hello to you too….Anyway, what's the problem?_

Newkirk quickly filled his friend in on the pertinent information, leaving practically nothing out. Even though he hadn't seen his friend in such a lengthy period of time, he felt as though he had just seen him yesterday due to how easily the conversation was coming back between the both of them. Newkirk talked, while Angel dutifully listened to his friend's worries and problems.

_Peter, I don't know about this. It seems like it could be a trap, or something worse. Besides, I just came back from that submarine incident, _[1] _and I'm not exactly ready for another adventure so soon. Isn't there anything that you can do without me?_ he asked in his typical brooding fashion.

_Angel, if you know me as well as I think you do, you should know that I'm not the type to ask for favors if I don't really need them. We can't stop Gretel without our fangs, since she could control us at any minute. Besides, if she could do this to us, who knows 'ow many other vampires' fangs she might 'ave? If she 'as an entire army at 'er side, the world won't be safe for vampire or 'uman._

Back in his apartment, Angel let out a small sigh. He knew that his friend always spoke the truth, and that he was not the type to be melodramatic. He had to agree, unwillingly at first, that his last sentence make perfect sense, unfortunately. _Fine. What time do you want me to be there?_ he asked.

_Could you come tonight, or tomorrow night?_ Newkirk asked.

_That's on very short notice. "Hello, how are you, and by the way, we need your help immediately," _Angel replied. _But sure, I can be there tonight. It just so happens that I was planning on meeting a friend of mine in a week anyway. She said that I could visit her, after I told her about what happened recently._

_You'll 'ave to tell me more about this submarine adventure when you get 'ere. But who is "she?"_ However, Newkirk needn't had bothered on asking that question. Immediately, he knew what the answer was, due to his telepathically. _Wait—when did you meet Anne?_

_You're not the only one who's been busy since we last saw each other. She sought me out; I think she wanted me to join her Angels organization._

Newkirk couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. _Well, you both share the same name, so it would make perfect sense to have an Angel in the Angels….But I know 'ow much you've been looking for a good deed to do, to repent for your past sins. This could be the perfect opportunity to do that._

Angel let his friend's words wash over him, and for a brief moment he felt more depressed than he had in the past. In a way, he was tired of living with his guilt and his turmoil, since at times it was simply unbearable for him. On the other hand, he felt that was what he deserved, due to his new soul that the Romany tribe had cursed him with.

_Then it's settled. See you soon, old mate._

HHH

The rest of the evening and night flew by in a flash. During roll call, Newkirk and Hogan found that their minds were heavily occupied by their own individual thoughts. Newkirk couldn't wait to see his friend again, while at the same time hoping that he wouldn't bring Angelus along.

Hogan, meanwhile, couldn't help but look at his Kommandant in the same manner that he looked at Nimrod. Even though it had been a whole month since he had learned of Klink's other secret, sometimes he still found it hard to believe that Kommandant Klink and Agent Nimrod were one and the same person. _I wonder if I should get Nimrod involved in all of this? Sure, he did prove invaluable during our encounter with the Engels, and during some of our subsequent missions. But this is more on an individual nature, so I'll need to ask Carter and Newkirk first if they want Klink's involvement. _Finishing his thoughts, Hogan turned his head to watch the sun setting behind the gates of their Stalag. Shaking his head, he still found it hard to believe everything that had happened in only the span of one day. Newkirk's and Carter's losing control of themselves, his being poisoned and LeBeau's heroic journey to save him, and finally learning the truth about one of his man's past. _Small world_ he thought to himself, as though everything could be summed up in such a simple phrase.

After roll call, Hogan and the others quickly entered back into the barracks, and returned to their tunnels. "Were you able to get in contact with him?" Hogan asked as soon as they had descended below ground, cutting to the chase.

"Yes, and 'e should be 'ere any 'our. Don't ask me 'ow e's going to get from America to 'ere so quickly, but 'e made it seem like 'e's already in this country, visiting a friend of 'is."

"Well, I for one am looking forward to meeting him. Hopefully, he'll be just as powerful as Angel as he was as Angelus."

"He is. Of course, there are some certain ground rules that need to be set out," Newkirk replied, shifting his gaze to each of his friends to make sure that they were listening to what he had to say. "First of all, I don't want you to be frightened when you see 'im in 'is vampiric state. 'E doesn't look the same as we do. Second of all, we need to keep all 'oly objects away from 'im. Kinch, you need to make sure that you hide your crucifix."

Taking it out from underneath his shirt, Kinch looked at it in his hands. "But why? As a good Christian, I don't want to have to store my crucifix in my foot locker."

"I'm not saying that you 'ave to put it away, but just make sure that it doesn't touch 'is skin. Any 'oly water, such as crosses or water that's been blessed, will burn 'is skin."

However, Hogan could only respond by giving his corporal a weary look. "What—is your friend a vampire, or something else? As the second Christian in this team, the thought that your friend can be hurt by holy objects isn't exactly very comforting."

To that, Newkirk could only sigh. "'E's a vampire, but there are several differences between 'im and the kind that we are, sir. We've always 'ad our souls, so that was something that we didn't 'ave to worry about. But Angel is different—'is kind of vampire is a demon that 'as taken over the form of a dead body."

"A demon? Mon Dieu!" LeBeau quickly responded, and Newkirk could see that his face had grown visibly pale. "Mais démons sont malfaisant! [2] They are monsters!" he shouted, half in French before he had to force himself to switch back to English. Suddenly, all eyes fall upon him. "Back in France, before the war, there was a demon that was terrorizing my family. He gave them all sorts of misfortune, even bringing the family restaurant to the brink of financial ruin. If I hadn't sought out a witch and her white magick, I am certain that one of my family members would have died. She risked her life to banish that demon from our house, and we couldn't even figure out what that monster wanted from us or why he had chosen our family in the first place. So non, I simply can't work with any demons!" LeBeau shouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"But LeBeau, this is different. As long as Angelus isn't around to bother us, Angel can be trusted." Newkirk quietly voiced his concerns to himself—_more or less._ "I promise that Angelus won't bring any 'arm to you, mate. You 'ave me word on that."

"Yeah. Besides, Anne told us about one of her visions concerning this Lorne fellow. He isn't here yet, since he's still in his own dimension. But from the sound of him, he seems like a very agreeable demon," Carter said, adding in his own two sense while standing up for Newkirk's friend.

"All right, all right. I suppose I should stop jumping to conclusions so quickly," LeBeau agreed, allowing a very small smile to cross his face. "I'll have to see this Angel for myself first before I can judge him."

Matching his friend's expression with a smile of his own, Newkirk continued, "Another thing—whatever you decide to talk about, don't ask 'im about 'is family…'E's still coming to terms with the fact that 'e killed them all," he said, the last sentence barely above a whisper.

"Wait a minute. He did _what_ to his family?" Hogan asked, scarcely believing the words that had come from his corporal's mouth.

Newkirk let his gaze drop to the floor, but only momentarily. "You 'ear me right. 'E killed 'is family. But just as Richard did things that I couldn't even _dream_ of doing these days, the same is true for Angel. 'E may not seem like the ideal candidate for this team, but I promise you that 'e can be very 'elpful when 'e wants to be. I believe that 'e'll come through for us."

Just then, they heard what sounded like a knock on their tree stump. All five members of the team momentarily froze, not sure if it was friend or foe that had found the hidden entrance to their tunnels. However, Newkirk quickly let a smile cross his face, since he now knew who it was. _That was certainly fast!_ he thought to himself. _'E must 'ave been nearer than I thought._

Before he could quickly climb the ladder up to the woods and out of the tree stump, Newkirk waved his hand for his colonel to follow him. The sight that lay before them was indeed the man that Newkirk had sent for. Dressed in his typical black outfit, Hogan took in the sight of him. He was taller than he was, and even though he looked as depressed as Newkirk had described him, he could still pick out a very small smile hidden in his features.

"Angel, this is Colonel Edward Andrew Newkirk, formally known in life as Colonel Robert Hogan. Sir, this is Angel," he said, making the introductions between his two friends. Holding his hand out to warmly greet this newest, though temporary member of the team, Hogan was relieved that Angel reciprocated his friendly gesture. Going back down the tunnels, Hogan expected Angel to follow him. However, it quickly became apparent that Newkirk's friend was not falling in behind them.

"There's something that I didn't 'ave time to tell you. Angel 'as to be invited into a 'ome before 'e can enter it. The Stalag may be a public building, but since you built the tunnels, they belong to you."

"I thought that part about having to invite a vampire in someplace was just a legend?" Hogan asked, slightly incredulous. "But if that's the way that your friend is…" Hogan climbed back up the ladder, and Newkirk could hear him telling Angel, "You're invited into the tunnels." With that, Angel quickly followed Hogan before the searchlight from the guard tower could fall upon them.

"Allow me to introduce you to the gang. You've just met Colonel Hogan, and this is Sergeant Andrew Carter, formally known in life as Stanly Miller. This is Corporal Louis LeBeau, and this is Sergeant James Kinchloe, also known as Kinch," Newkirk said, waving his hand to encircle his group of friends that were standing slightly apart from the other three men.

"Humans?" Angel asked warily, wondering why Newkirk hadn't given another name for the shorter man and the taller one. "It's not that I have a problem against humans, you understand. It's just that I don't exactly prefer to be around them." Angel didn't want to tell them that he didn't trust himself to be around them, hoping that they would pick up on what he was trying to tell them.

"Non, we're both werewolves," LeBeau said.

"Werewolves? It seems like your colonel certainly put an interesting team together." Suddenly, Angel's brooding expression had changed into one of curiosity. "What exactly does this team do?"

"We help downed fliers to get out of Germany, and our explosives expert here," Hogan said, pointing to Carter, "helps us with some sabotage on the side."

"You run a resistance unit in a POW camp?" Angel asked, scarcely believing what he had been told.

"Why not? It keeps us out of trouble," Hogan replied, flashing his usual twinkle, but complete with his vampiric green eyes, at Angel.

Angel replied by showing his own vampiric hardened features, which had quite the opposite effect of being a show of friendship between two vampires. Instead, it caused all of Hogan's men, but especially Kinch and LeBeau, to let out small, surprised gasps. Suspecting that they weren't used to seeing his kind of vampire, Angel quickly changed his face back into his regular human features. "I didn't mean to scare you, but I had assumed that Newkirk would have told you everything about me."

"Almost everything," Hogan quickly said. "We're sorry if we offended you; that certainly wasn't our intentions."

"Don't mention it," Angel replied. "So, where can we find this witch Gretel?"

[1] See the "Angel" episode, "Why We Fight"

[2] But demons are evil!


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Sorry for the ridiculously long delay. Between the busyness of the holidays, starting back up with school, thinking up plot ideas, etc., I haven't been as faithful with this story as I had hoped to be.

Chapter Ten: On the Team

However, Newkirk could only shift his glance in Carter's and Hogan's direction quickly, before turning his attention back on his friend. "That's the main problem, Angel. We 'onestly 'ave no idea where she might be. I'm assuming that she's someplace in Germany, but if 'er magick is strong enough, she could be in Poland or even England for all we know."

"Fortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case though. Or rather, unfortunately as the case may be," Hogan said while sighing, no hint of the usual twinkle in his eye. For a brief moment, his expression was just as brooding as Newkirk's friend's was.

Angel was about to continue the conversation, but a sight had stopped him in his tracks. Turning his attention away from Hogan and back onto Newkirk, he knew immediately what had caught his eye. The corporal realized what his friend was thinking, so he could only shake his head sadly. "I know you were 'oping that what I 'ad to say wasn't the truth, but it is. Gretel really 'as stolen Carter and me fangs. You know 'ow powerless we are as vampires without them."

"I know. Before I had planned to visit Anne recently, we had a long conversation by telephone, and she thought it might be best to fill me in on what's been going on in your life since we last saw each other. She had the feeling that something was wrong, but she didn't know exactly what," Angel replied.

"Well, she should have known!" LeBeau suddenly said, jumping into the conversation. "If she knew, then maybe she would have been able to help mes amis before this whole incident started!" he shouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Newkirk could only sigh, before quickly looking at his close friend in an annoyed manner. A couple of weeks ago, Anne had given Carter and Newkirk permission to disclose some basic information about her and The Angels, such as who they were, what they were fighting for, and even the fact that Newkirk had become a POW willingly. Naturally, Kinch and LeBeau were just as surprised learning about her as Hogan had been in the beginning. "After all, a group of vampiric espionage and sabotage agents isn't something that you come across every day," Kinch said upon initially hearing the news. "I don't suppose there are any shapeshifters working for her, are there?"

Newkirk had actually been slightly surprised by Kinch's question. While he had been aware of the existence of werewolves and shape shifters for decades, he had never thought very much about them. Kinch and LeBeau were the first shape shifters that he could remember meeting in person, and to the best of his knowledge, none of them served in Anne's secret organization. "No, but if you want, I could always recommend you to 'er. Unfortunately, some of 'er agents were… compromised… when their names were leaked," Newkirk had sadly replied. Before Newkirk had decided to come to Stalag 13, and after he had escaped from Angel and the others, he had spent that period of time with Mavis only. After he had been tricked by Angelus, Spike, Darla and Drusilla, not to mention the innocent humans that he had killed, he had never fully trusted himself to be around either kind of person. True to his nature, he couldn't help but be sarcastic, sneaky and even slightly uncomfortable when he had first come to the Stalag. He had never really spent enough time with his RAF squadron to form any lasting friendships, and even if he had, relationships of that sort had never really interested him. Though, he had spent a great deal with Anne's youngest vampire recruits, teaching them about their new lives as vampires, especially how to overcome any darkness, before Anne had sent them on their way. He remembered one young vampire in particular, David Smith, a name he had decided to keep in death, and who was practically a fledging. He had only been in his young 20s when he had been changed, and he had only been a vampire for a little over a year. Newkirk remembered how saddened he had been to learn of Smith's demise at the hands of a Hunter when her organization had first been uncovered, which made him want to stick to his original vow even closer: Only become as close as is necessary to helping the Colonel carry out his missions. He had never expected that some people by the names of Robert Hogan, Andrew Carter, Louis LeBeau, and James Kinch, as well as Marie Monet and Wilhelm Klink, would help him discover that friendship was important after all, no matter how much he had tried to keep to himself.

Shaking his mind clear of his rapid reminiscences, Newkirk could only turn to face his friend. "Louis, it's like I told you earlier. Just because some vampires can see into the future doesn't mean that it's a completely reliable power of ours."

LeBeau could only sigh, while letting his hands fall to his side. "Oui, I know. It's just that I hate the idea of Gretel having so much power over you whenever she wants to. If it wasn't for Wilson earlier—"

Inadvertently cutting into the conversation, Angel quickly glanced between LeBeau and Newkirk. "Who's Wilson?" he asked simply.

"He's our resident medic, and apparently our resident warlock as well," Hogan said, speaking very directly and as a matter-of-fact. "He helped Newkirk out earlier, because" the Colonel glanced quickly at Newkirk, who gave him permission to finish his sentence, "Gretel had tricked him into attacking me. If it wasn't for his knowledge of magickal plants, Newkirk would have committed an act that he would never be able to forgive himself for."

"He would have killed you," Angel said simply. "You're talking to the one vampire who understands what that means, to take an innocent person's life. If it wasn't for the fact that I've been cursed with a soul, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you."

Up until that point in time, Kinch had remained silent, carefully listening into the conversation that was flowing between his friends and this newcomer. Thus, one word in Angel's last sentence had left him slightly bothered. "What do you mean, 'cursed.' Don't you feel blessed now that you have a soul?"

"Kinch, right? You're a werewolf, and it's my understanding that you've always had your soul. So, you've always had a conscience. You can't possibly imagine what it's like to have one suddenly planted into your body; to suddenly feel this horrible, wrenching and overpowering guilt for the countless people that you've killed, just to have a drink of blood. I don't exactly enjoy knowing that this guilt will always be with me, that it will always be a part of who and what I am. Of course I wouldn't want to go back to being a serial killer of sorts, but if only this guilt could go away!" he shouted. For the first time, his brooding, impassive expression had registered emotion, and he lowered his head before raising it again.

Hogan placed a hand on Angel's shoulders, which prompted him to look the colonel in the face. "Angel, you have to trust me when I say I know what you're going through. It might have been a while since Carter and Newkirk last killed somebody, but that isn't the case for me. I was tricked by a ruddy group of evil vampires, which caused me to kill two innocent Underground agents. I can't tell you how conflicted my emotions were that night—one minute I was enjoying every ounce of warm blood that passed through my lips, and the next your friend had to stop me from killing myself. It was a complete and bloody nightmare, boy!"

"'Ruddy? Bloody? I think I might have been mistaken about you, Colonel. Your accent is definitely American, but you use words that only a true British citizen would use," Angel replied, looking at Hogan in a quizzical manner.

"That's because of the psychic link between myself and my two vampiric men. Doesn't your kind of vampire have that same link?"

Angel could only shake his head back-and-forth. "I'm afraid there are quite a number of differences between your kind of vampire and mine. We don't have a 'psychic link,' or wings, or that horrible Scream of Death either." _Besides, why would we want to? From what Anne told me about it, Newkirk's Scream of Death sounds like it can cause more harm than good. I wonder how he can live with it?_

"'Ey, I 'eard that!" Newkirk replied, though in a manner that was more sarcastic than truly angry. "It's true—me Scream of Death isn't always the easiest thing to control. But, it did cause us to finish off those bloody vampires once and for all. Though, we 'ave a new battle on the 'orizon, and I need to know if you're in or out."

"If it was anybody else, you know I wouldn't even have bothered coming here tonight. I'm still not entirely certain that this is what I should be doing, but it's better than lying around and feeling sorry for myself. Like you told me earlier, I need to complete a good deed, to help me deal with my conscience. I'm in," Angel said, while even daring to smile.

With that, Hogan held out his hand for the newest member of the team to shake it, which Angel did. While snapping off a crisp salute, Hogan could only reply, "Welcome to the team, Angel. It's good to have you on our side."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Further Tales of Darkness

"I can only hope that I can be of some assistance to this team, Colonel Newkirk," Angel replied, with some warmth shining in his otherwise brooding eyes.

However, Hogan could only shake his head back-and-forth. "I understand where your confusion about my name comes from; please, don't call me Colonel Newkirk," he replied.

Angel could only look at Hogan in a slightly quizzical manner. "But, Newkirk just told me that your new name is Colonel Edward Andrew Newkirk. I don't understand; don't tell me that you're one of those vampires who take a new name, and then decide not to use it."

It was then that Carter took the opportunity to jump into an already-confusing conversation. "But, if Newkirk is a corporal, then how can he be a colonel? I mean, we only have one Newkirk, and there's one Hogan, right?"

Hogan couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at his sergeant's statement, while allowing the usual twinkle to shine in his bright green eyes. Placing a hand on top of Carter's shoulder, he replied, "Carter, I'm still Colonel Hogan. I suppose I never really put much thought into it, but Angel's right." Still, letting his hand drop from his man's shoulder, he turned to Newkirk with a questioning expression registering upon his face. "Newkirk, is there any correct protocol for this? I realize and accept that Colonel Hogan is dead, but none of you has ever called me anything else. Plus, Carter's right. I didn't think about the confusion that two Newkirks in the team would cause."

"What's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," Newkirk replied in rather a sing-song voice that he kept reserved for only the Mighty Hogan Art Players. As soon as he had begun quoting the famous line from "Romeo and Juliet," all eyes had fallen upon him. Looking at all of his friends, he could only smile and nod his head. "I know it may not seem like me, mates, but you do learn some things from the theatre." However, one sharp glance from Hogan was enough to cause Newkirk to fess up. "All right, all right, so I didn't learn it from me time as a performer. It was Mavis who read the book to me—she's more of the literary type than I am, anyway."

"But that doesn't exactly answer the question, does it?" Carter asked, his focus glancing between Newkirk on his left, and Hogan, who was still standing by Angel.

"Actually, I think it does. So, it's settled. To avoid any confusion, I want all of you to still call me Colonel Hogan when you address me using my name….That's because I know one of you will still call me Gov'nor, and another of you can't help but slip up and call me boy," Hogan replied, looking warmly between both of his vampiric men. "Anyway, it's been a long day, and I could certainly use the sleep." With that, he began to make his way out of the tunnels, and back into the barracks. After approximately thirty seconds, however, he came to a complete and utter standstill; this caused two of his men to stop behind him, as well. Turning around to see who wasn't falling in behind, he could see that Newkirk had moved closer to Angel on his right, and that Carter was also standing next to his own friend's right.

"Aren't you two coming up to your bunks? I remember you telling me once that the older a vampire gets, the less time he needs to spend sleeping. But Carter, as a younger vampire surely you must be as tired as the rest of us are after this long day. And Newkirk, I'm going to need you to watch over Carter while he sleeps, so he can't hurt anybody by accident."

While nodding his head in agreement to his commanding officer's statement, Newkirk spoke up. "That's exactly what we 'ad in mind, sir. But, who's going to watch over me? If Carter's sleeping, Gretel could 'ave me do some 'arm long before 'e wakes up. No, we're going to stay down 'ere for the night. Angel is the only one that Gretel 'asn't taken control of. 'E's the only one that would be able to protect me from causing any 'arm to the rest of the men in the barracks. Besides, not only that, but you know what our most important rule is."

"Above everything else, maintaining secrecy is essential," Newkirk, Carter and Hogan said in unison.

"Newkirk is right," Kinch said while sighing. "If Golden or Loup had to reveal themselves to stop either Carter or Newkirk from hurting somebody, there would be more unanswered questions than we could drop one of Carter's bombs on. I know our true, human friends, like Baker and Olsen, would hopefully be able to accept us for what we are. But I don't know if I can say that for the rest of them."

"Boy, you're telling me! Most humans I've met, who learned of my secret, aren't exactly keen on the idea that vampires live with them. I remember one time, there was a fire in the apartment where I was staying at in Muncie. Let's see, this was…" Carter paused, trying to remember the year that it had happened. Before anybody could stop him from continuing what they would know to be another one of his lengthy ramblings, he continued his story. "…two years before I was drafted into the army. Like Newkirk, I knew that I couldn't live at home anymore. It was a pretty decent apartment, but it did have its share of mice. I can second Newkirk's opinion, sir—I really wouldn't recommend drinking from them. But I didn't want to be a monster anymore. Let's just say that Newkirk's story is similar to my own—too much killing was involved," he sighed, trying to keep composure over his emotions. Finding that it was necessary to stop, Carter looked down at his feet, trying to brush away his own memories of his earlier, darkness-filled life.

After about twenty seconds, Carter could feel a warm hand, one of friendship, being placed upon his shoulder. "Go on," he heard his commanding officer say gently.

"Between my education at Rutherford, and then the business school I told you about, I was able to get that job at the drug store. You know me—I've never been the life of the party. If I wasn't shy around people, especially girls before, I certainly was now. I mostly kept to myself, because boy, it certainly wouldn't make for good business if I attacked and drank from every customer that came into the store! I mostly kept to myself before I was changed, but that only increased afterwards. I know what most of my regular customers would call me when they didn't think I was listening—cold, aloof. Still, I think they enjoyed the fact that my store was clean, my prices were low, and that I had a big quantity of items.

Plus, I was probably the only storekeeper in town who had this policy: if they didn't have the money to buy what they needed, they could trade in animals. I got everything from mice to cows. I had a couple of employees, and I made sure that their needs were met as well. Sometimes I think Sundays were my busiest days, even though the store was closed. I think I have my heritage to thank for that; my Sioux grandparents taught me how to use every part of the animal. I would sell the meat to the butcher or give it to my employees for food. I would skin the hides of the animals that had them, and sell the leather in order to pay my employees. The blood, of course, I drained and kept for myself," he said, his eyes momentarily turning their greenish shade of desire, before he had to force them to return to their regular color.

"But it was never enough. The vampire in me wanted more than just cow's blood and mouse's blood. I would try to satisfy my desire from the animals—I didn't want to allow myself to kill anybody innocent! Still, there was that fire. Most of the people in my apartment made it out, but there was an elderly couple that was trapped. They lived two apartments down from mine….It would have been so easy…so easy to help them…to get them out of the building." Carter found that he had to stop, as he was beginning to choke on his own words. Taking a meaningful, deep breath, he continued. "After that, I didn't trust myself to be around any humans. I moved to a house just outside of Muncie's limits, and I stayed there for a while. After awhile, I found that this wasn't the sort of life that I wanted to live. I missed running my store, and I missed my old apartment. I gathered all the courage and strength that I possessed, and I moved back to the apartment. By this time they had finished repairing it. Even though we were in the middle of the Depression, the damage wasn't so bad that it would be too expensive to fix. I had lived in my old apartment for just a couple of weeks when the draft notice came. The elderly couple was the only ones who found out what I really was; the army was completely clueless. When I wasn't in training, I would sneak out to find the blood that I needed to stay alive. So, here we are," he sighed, finishing his own past story.

"Here we are," Hogan repeated, almost as though it was a matter-of-fact thing to say, though of course it wasn't. He had learned more about his two vampiric's men bloodthirsty past, and the inner turmoil and guilt that came along with it, in twenty-four hours than in all the months that he had known them.

"But, then you met Newkirk, and I remember you said that he taught you everything you knew about being a vampire. I'm glad that he was there to help you learn how you manage your desire for blood," Hogan said warmly, placing a hand on his sergeant's shoulders. "Ok, you can sleep down here for tonight. If anybody asks, I'll just tell them that you're putting the finishing touches on a mission."

"Sir, is there anything else that you would like me to do, besides keeping watch over Newkirk?" Angel asked with genuine concern showing in both his voice and his face.

Hogan rubbed his head for a couple of seconds, thinking hard about what fate might bring to his two men during the night. After that amount of time had passed, he could only shake his head back-and-forth. "I don't think so. But if you need me, you can come up into the barracks and into my quarters; you have permission to enter both buildings. Or, better yet, try to reach me by projecting your thoughts telepathically, since you're not exactly dressed in an Air Force uniform. Speaking of which," he said, turning to Kinch.

"Already on it," the sergeant replied, about to head to the room where they kept their uniforms. "What do you want him dressed as?"

"Oh, an American, preferably nothing higher than a Sergeant," Hogan replied. Shifting his glance from Kinch to Angel, he said, "Once again, I want to thank you for coming on such a short notice. This really means a lot to Newkirk, and to me too. I—"

However, Hogan was abruptly cut off by Olsen yelling down from the barracks, "Colonel, Klink's coming!"

"Ok, everybody into the barracks. Except for you three," Hogan said, indicating to the three vampires with a swift movement of his hand.

Everybody could tell that Klink was in rather a hurry; Kinch, who was last in line behind Hogan and LeBeau, had barely enough time to hit the hidden mechanism that closed the tunnels before Klink came bursting into the room.

Turning to face Hogan, who was still standing by the bunk, Klink did his best to glower at them. It was one of the few times since Hogan had discovered Klink's other secret that his Kommandant's glower appeared to be genuine.

"Hogan, you and your men are up to something. I want to speak to you in my office," he said, while taking a quick inventory of his prisoners that were present—and two that were not. "Hogan, where is Newkirk and Carter? If your men have escaped…"

"This isn't an escape, sir. If it was, would I be here talking to you about this non-escape? Of course not! As a good officer, I would have gone with them," Hogan replied, in his customary sarcastic reply. He couldn't help but smile inwardly as he saw Klink's expression grow angrier after hearing his Senior POW Officer's comment. He also knew that a little over a month ago, this exchange would have truly annoyed Klink. Now, it was more of a game that they played, merely for the sake of keeping up appearances as Kommandant and prisoner.

"Never mind. In my office. Now!" Klink barked, moving his hand in his usual frustrated manner. Making sure that Hogan was leading the way, Klink fell in behind him. To Hogan's surprise, Klink remained absolutely silent as they marched across the camp, up the steps of the Kommandantur, and over into his office. Hogan opened the door before going over to stand by the window, making sure that neither guard nor prisoner could hear them. Following his spy counterpart in, Klink made sure that the door was closed before turning his attention on Hogan.

"Friend or foe?" he asked.

"Sir?" Hogan replied, not sure at what Klink was trying to get at.

"After roll call, I could sense that you had a visitor. This person didn't have Tiger's scent, or the scent of any flier that I've ever encountered before," Klink said, while pacing back-and-forth in front of his desk. Stopping his pacing, he turned his attention directly upon Hogan. "If it's an intruder, do you need my help? After all, I remember how the Engels behaved almost a month ago."

Hogan sighed, and he knew that in this battle against Gretel, Nimrod would make a highly valuable ally. "I'm afraid it's worse than that, Wilhelm. _Much _worse."

It was then that Hogan filled his friend in on everything that had befallen Carter and Newkirk in the space of one day—both of his men being tricked into attacking him by Gretel's magick, his being poisoned by Gretel's vervain, LeBeau's heroic rush to the hospital to get a fresh supply of blood, and finally Angel being invited into camp.

"Wait a minute—Gretel did WHAT to them and to you?" Klink shouted, unable to hide the anger at hearing that three of his friends were or had been in danger because of Gretel's black magick.

For a couple of seconds, Klink's eyes shifted into those of Eagle's red irises. He could feel his protective rage towards them building up and increasing with each and every passing second. Worse than that, he could feel the convulsions begin to overtake his body, and that sweat was pouring down his back.

Immediately, Hogan understood what was happening to his Kommandant. "Sir, Angel's watching over them; there's no reason to get angry. You don't want to do this," Hogan said, hoping that he could stop his friend's transformation into the ravenous Eagle before it was too late.

"But Gretel! We should have…we should have _killed_ her when we had the chance!" Klink cried out. "We should have known that she wouldn't leave you or your men alone!" The convulsions didn't seem to be at a stop, and Hogan watched in horror as the initial transformation from man into wolf began to take place.

Rushing quicker than humanly possible to stand directly in front of his Kommandant, Hogan placed both hands squarely on Klink's now-furry shoulders that were sticking out of his uniform. "Sir, remember your meditations! Remember the breathing exercises that Newkirk taught you!" Hogan said, looking his Kommandant right in the eyes while trying to keep calm for him. "You can stop this transformation, it's not too late!"

However, before Hogan could say anything else, all aspects of Klink were gone and Eagle had taken his place. The grey wolf lunged at Hogan, pinning him down on the floor. Hogan tried to push Eagle off of him, but it was to no use. Eagle was just about to bite down on Hogan's neck, when Hogan summoned all his strength in a move of pure self-perseverance. Throwing Eagle off of him, the wolf landed against the other side of the room with a whimper. However, that didn't keep him down for very long. Getting back up, Eagle began to circle around Hogan, studying him as he had once studied the members of the Engels that he had fought against.

Suddenly, and without warning, two of Hogan's men rushed into Klink's office. Hogan barely had time to register that they were LeBeau and Kinch before they were about to begin their own transformations, ready to defend their Colonel.

"Mon Dieu! Didn't I tell you the Kraut wasn't to be trusted?" LeBeau asked with anger in his voice. Inwardly, however, he had to force himself to correct his sentence. _Non, that isn't the case. Klink and Nimrod are still ok in my book; it's Eagle that can be a danger sometimes._

"I'm glad to hear you think that," Hogan said, just barely side-stepping Eagle who had made another lunge at him. Turning around, Eagle tried again to attack the colonel, all the while completely ignoring both Kinch and LeBeau. This time, however, Kinch managed to pin him down, tackling Eagle to the floor as though he was tackling one of his opponents in a boxing match. Eagle growled at him, and tried to turn himself around so that he could bite the sergeant. However, Kinch proved to be stronger than he was, and Eagle was unable to free himself from the sergeant's grip.

"Sir…Wilhelm, I know you're still in there. Please, let us continue to help you. You didn't lose yourself in the heat of the battle while you were fighting against those bloody Engels, and I don't believe you're lost to us now," Hogan said, with absolute pleading in his voice.

"The colonel is right, sir. You're still our Kommandant, still a fellow spy. You're all those things, but a person who lets the beast within you control you is one of the things that you're _not_," Kinch said, hoping to reason with the part of Eagle that still held Klink, trapped deep within.

"Colonel, regardez! I think it's working," LeBeau said, pointing excitedly, albeit cautiously, at Eagle's eyes. "They're changing between red and yellow." After about thirty seconds, Eagle's eyes had changed to yellow and stayed there.

It was then that Hogan couldn't help but pick up on Klink's thoughts. _Robert, help me! I don't want to hurt any of you! Please, stop me!_

"We're right here Wilhelm, and we're not going anywhere. We've always been there for each other." Turning his attention from Eagle to Kinch, who still had him pinned down just to be on the safe side, Hogan ordered, "Go and get Klink another uniform." Sensing that Eagle was no longer a danger to anybody in Klink's office, he loosened his grip on the grey wolf and made his way to the door. Opening it, he proceeded to leave the room and then quickly hurried over to Klink's quarters. Fortunately, Hilda had already retired for the night, so she was nowhere to be seen.

Within the space of a minute, Kinch had returned with a new uniform. By this time, Klink had transformed from the beast within back into his regular, human self. Handing the uniform over the side of the desk, Klink quickly began to dress, before getting up and making his way to the window. Looking outside, he could only sigh to himself. "The moon is full tonight," he said, unable to face any of the three men behind him. He could sense that they were staring at him, and he could only hope that they had sympathetic, instead of angry or fearful, expressions on their faces. "But I know that isn't an excuse for losing myself to Eagle. It's just that…" he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

"It's just that you were concerned about us, and unfortunately your emotions got the better of you. Wilhelm, it's like I told you once—we're still learning how to control ourselves. After all, you should have heard the admissions that Carter and Newkirk made to me today," Hogan said while walking up to stand next to Klink. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, Klink couldn't help but turn around, although he still felt that he was unable to look Hogan in the eye.

"I've heard some information about Newkirk's past with Angel, and Carter's own past as well. But this is the second time recently that this has happened," Klink said while sighing. "But still, sometimes I wonder. Will I ever learn how to completely control Eagle? Or am I stuck between two worlds, not being your stereotypical werewolf, but not being able to be a shape shifter at complete will either? If it wasn't for the good that Eagle is capable of performing…well, sometimes I wish that I had never been attacked that fateful night, all those years ago."

"Sir, I know exactly how you feel. I still remember the pain that my changing into a vampire caused me. It may have been a month since I completely accepted who I am…and now I don't mind it one bit," Hogan said warmly, with the usual twinkle shining in his eyes which still retained their greenish shade from his most recent confrontation. "Still, my memories of me killing those two agents are likely to stay with me for a ruddy _long_ time, if not for the rest of my life."

It was then that LeBeau also walked up to his Kommandant, and extended a hand in friendship. He was glad to see that Klink shook it, all the while speaking, "I'm sorry I called you a Kraut, sir. I was just upset to see that Eagle had taken control of you again."

"LeBeau, you didn't have to apologize. I understand where you're coming from. But, thank you," Klink said, replying warmly to the corporal's sincere statement.

"Would you like us one of us to spend the night with you? Newkirk and Carter have told us that's what they usually do when you lose control of yourself. But, since they're out of commission, I volunteer. After all, it might help to be with another shape shifter until morning," Kinch said, waiting for Klink's reply.

He could sense that his Kommandant was about to reply in the negative, before he changed his mind. "Thank you Kinch—I would like that."

"I'll see you in the morning, sir. Hopefully, a new day will mean a new beginning. Most importantly, hopefully Gretel will prove to be less dangerous and we'll be able to stop her, once and for all," Hogan said. With that, he began to make his way over to the door, with LeBeau following close behind him.

"Good night, Robert. And thank you," Klink replied, leading the way to his quarters.

As each person made their way to either their quarters or their bunk, all four of them found themselves heavily preoccupied with what the next day would undoubtedly bring. Hogan found himself trying to think of different plans that he could use to stop Gretel. LeBeau found himself hoping that Carter and Newkirk's teeth would be found soon, so that life could go back to normal inside the camp. Kinch hoped that a repeat of the events that had just unfolded wouldn't be repeated, while Klink could only hope that he would be able to keep his emotions under control. They knew that a long day awaited them; however, after the horror and excitement of the day, all four found that sleep came easily, and that surprisingly, only pleasant dreams entered into their minds.


	12. Chapter 12

Hello regular readers and new ones alike. Well, I finally found my muse, playing in a meadow and I've managed to capture her again. We've had a talk, and we both agree that we want to rip this story to threads. I have some ideas brewing for a new story featuring our favorite vampire and werewolf heroes, but first I need to know something. After a year, is there still any readership interest in reading this sort of story? Right now, it's not so much as a sequel as it is a sort of spin-off. Please comment so I know if there's any interest, or comment just to let me know that you read this little memo. It would be written during NaNoWriMo a type of competition where you have to write at least 50,000 words during the month of November]. Thus, the first chapter probably wouldn't be up until the beginning of December. I would basically be starting anew.


	13. Chapter 13

Well, the guys track down Gretel using their powers, and also because Felix is helping them. He's Wilson's familiar, but he's working as a double agent. He has the power of speech and can also transform into a man when Wilson places a special spell over him. [My original plan was that either he, or his brother (also a mouse) was going to be the traitor that Gretel is referring to.] Unfortunately, Gretel doesn't die when the men track him down, but mortally wounds LeBeau. Newkirk, not wanting his best friend to die, is granted permission by LeBeau to turn him into a vampire. However, things don't go exactly as planned. Instead of LeBeau becoming a regular vampire, he becomes a psychic vampire, which is a certain type of vampire that has to feed on the energy/life force of the living. His friends start feeling sluggish and tired around him, and they have no idea why. Eventually Newkirk, with Anne's help [remember, she's the leader of The Secret Organization of The Angels] eventually discovers what LeBeau has become. Things soon get worse when LeBeau has an involuntary change into being a werewolf on the first full moon. The rest of the camp witnesses this horrific change, but thanks to Wilson's advanced skill as a warlock, he's able to erase their memories of this event.

LeBeau, feeling horrified, both at what he has become and the fact that he could have hurt or even killed his friends, runs away. Eventually, Gretel finds him and offers him unlimited psychic energy, in exchange for him working for her. Not knowing what else to do, he agrees.

Newkirk, naturally, tries to bring LeBeau back into the team but he doesn't want to hurt his friends. Much like how Newkirk helped Hogan towards the end of my second story, he'll help LeBeau at the end of this one and help him to understand that it doesn't matter what he's become, they still want him with them. In the end, LeBeau decides to rejoin Hogan's team, even after he's done some of Gretel's bidding. The story ends with him and Newkirk killing Gretel, and him being welcomed back into camp.

So, this is basically in a nutshell how my story would end. If anybody has any questions, I would be more than glad to answer them. You can send them my way either via review or PM.


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